Soul Reaper
by Raynell
Summary: My vision of how S7 should start/include. I've been persuaded to expand on it so please read first Ch. for more info. No slash. Sorry.
1. Episode One

**NOTE:** I had intended this to be a one-shot but many people, especially my dearest but extremely pushy friends, had asked me to continue it so I will expand the story slowly. I would like to clarify, however, that although I will be introducing some twists and storylines, I will only be pursuing the Cas arc fully at this time. Sam and Dean's adventures will be dealt with as summaries. Maybe I will revisit them later on, maybe not.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own SUPERNATURAL and would be more than happy for Kripke and Co. to take my stories and use them for S7. If it means Cas is saved, then go for it.

Buckle up and enjoy the ride.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>  
>"Bow down and profess thy love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you," said Castiel coldly, facing Sam, Dean and Bobby, who could only gape at their old friend.<p>

**NOW**  
>A flash of light and Dean Winchester suddenly found himself in a restaurant, Mexican music playing merrily in the background. Instead of Castiel's brilliant blue eyes, so different now that he had transformed, Dean looked into the cool brown eyes of Death.<p>

"Come and join me, Dean. They have the best burritos," said the ageless being.

"Where am I?" asked the hunter nervously.

"Somewhere in Texas," came the answer. Dean looked around carefully, half-expecting to see a dozen bodies in the restaurant like the first time he had met Death. There were people, but they were not dead, eating and laughing as if everything was normal. They did seem to be studiously ignoring the small table where Dean and Death were sitting at, however.

Death noticed the direction of the young man's eyes. "You're not invisible. But they are, let's just say, encouraged to ignore us."

Dean nodded hesitantly. This particular Horseman still terrified him, even though he had met the man four times now.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Death cocked an eyebrow at him and took another bite of his burrito, taking his time.

"I warned you about the souls," he said finally. Dean gulped.

"It was Cas, he was working with Crowley the whole time."

"You had a chance to stop him," said Death.

"How?" Dean gave a nervous laugh. "He's ... WAS ... a freaking angel. And he was too pig-headed to listen. He wouldn't give up."

Again, that penetrating don't-bullshit-me look.

"Does that make you the kettle or the pot?" asked Death.

Dean frowned at the veiled insult. Death ignored him, taking out his scythe and putting it on the table. Dean eyed the weapon nervously.

"What are you going to do?"

"Since you have failed in your task, I shall have to clean up your mess," said Death.

Dean's green eyes widened.

"Wait - what? You're gonna kill Cas?"

"I told you I will one day reap God. Your friend has restored order in Heaven, but the souls cannot stay within him," said Death calmly.

The hunter shook his head.

"No, you can't kill Cas," he said, stubbornly.

Death gazed at him shrewdly.

"Who said anything about killing?"

***  
>Dean found himself outside the house in Kansas, the one where he, Sam and Bobby had gone to in an effort to stop Cas. His brother and Bobby both looked stunned.<p>

"What the hell happened there? How'd we get beamed here?" asked Bobby grouchily. Sam shrugged helplessly. He looked slightly better than when he had joined them.

Dean ignored them and moved towards the house. Strong arms grabbed him.

"What are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed, you idjit?"

Words came tumbling out. "You don't understand. Death got us out; he said he was going to reap Cas."

Sam stared at him and the house. "Death said that? He's going to kill Cas?" Despite stabbing Cas in the back when he had first arrived, there was worry in his voice.

Dean paused. His mind went over what Death said.

"Not exactly. He said he was going to reap God. But not kill." His face was perplexed.

Sam opened his mouth to ask another question, but then a light coming from the basement of the house caught his attention. A rumbling started.

"Get down!" yelled Bobby, huddling next to the wrecked remains of the Impala. Sam pulled Dean, who was still intent on going into the house.

The light grew and the rumbling got worse. From the house, they saw yellow balls of light shoot out, destroying everything in their path and disappear out of sight. Lone among them was a white ball of light that arced over the sky, like a comet.

***  
>Dean, Sam and Bobby managed to get to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, in one piece; Death being kind enough to give them a ride in his white Rolls Royce. The three of them shared the same seat. It was a tight fit, Sam practically sitting on Bobby's lap; but no one wanted to sit next to the Horseman.<p>

What could they say to the being who knew, to the second, how long you had left on Earth?

Dean was too miserable to care about the two. His mind invariably made a list of all the friends, family and allies he and Sam had lost over the years. Losing Cas was the breaking point.

Once they arrived, Sam and Bobby practically jumped out of the car, thanking Death and fleeing into the house. Dean sighed and moved to join them.

"Stay."

His eyes went to Death, sitting across from him. The door closed on its own volition.

"Why should I? Cas is dead, isn't he? You're going to kill me now because I failed?"

Death looked at Dean, an impassive expression on his face.

"Again, that amusing bravado.

"The problem with you, Dean, is that you do not listen. You could have prevented this if you had listened to your friend. He could have removed the souls himself, without my intervention."

The Horseman sat back, satisfied with the look of horrified realization on the hunter's face.

"I may have reaped God but the natural order is far from being restored. There are more monsters loose in this world. You and your brother will have to clean up this mess you and your friends made."

"Fine, you win. I'm stubborn. Tell me something I don't know," said Dean, half-snarkily, half-scared shitless.

Silence followed as Death considered the man in front of him.

"Your friend no longer had his grace."

Dean's brows knotted at the cryptic remark.

"What do you mean? We saw -"

"You sit here, having lived 33 years, and you think you know everything?"

Dean shut up, staring at the Grim Reaper. Death leaned over and opened the door.

"Remember what I said about the human soul. It is strong and more valuable than you can imagine. You now have many souls you have to save. One, in particular."

***  
>"What did he tell you?" asked Sam. They were sitting in Bobby's library, Sam holding a beer.<p>

"Just that we have to fix this mess. Said it was our fault." Dean eyed the bottle of beer in Sam's hand. "You sure you should be drinking that? The great wall of Sam just fell."

Sam gave a wry smile. "I'm OK. I don't know how but when we got out ..." He took a deep breath.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Did Death do something? He put up your wall again?"

Sam frowned, mulling the question. "No, I don't think so. I still remember ... Maybe Cas fixed me after all."

"Cas? What did he do?"

"Well, you were gone for a bit."

"Did you bow?"

Sam scoffed at first, then admitted embarrassedly. "Well, kinda. But when you disappeared, Cas suddenly said he didn't have much time and touched me on the head.

"And it was Cas, Dean. I can tell. He got us out," he added.

"It was Death."

"No, Death got you out. Cas got me and Bobby."

Dean scowled.

"What else did Death say? Did he kill Cas?" reminded Sam.

His brother sighed. "I have no idea. He said Cas no longer had his grace. But he got rid of the souls from Cas and monsters are now walking around because of it."

"Did he say what kind?"

"Godzilla?" Dean smirked, while Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, and we have to save one soul, whatever that means."

"Godzilla may be right," announced Bobby, carrying a heavy book. The name Lovecraft was on the cover.

"Some of the monsters in Purgatory ain't pretty," he added, laying the book out on the table. The boys huddled around it.

"Cthulhu? What kind of name is that?" asked Dean. "Sounds like something you find in a septic tank."

Sam stared at his brother. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, you know ... in the morning, sometimes you're surprised ... Never mind," said Dean harshly.

"You two idjits done?" growled Bobby.

Dean shifted his focus to his adopted father. "Sam said Cas got you and him out. That true, Bobby?"

Bobby made a face, hedging. Dean peered at him, not breaking eye contact.

"Oh all right, he did. That featherbrain may not be so bad after all."

"You forgive him for killing your girlfriend?"

"Well ... Ellie wasn't very nice, to tell you the truth. She was the one who killed Lovecraft and all the dinner guests," admitted Bobby, a bit shamefully.

"What?" exclaimed Sam. "You never told us that."

"What's wrong, Bobby? She that good in bed?" asked Dean snidely.

Bobby glared at the boys. "Oh, quit judging me. Last I checked you weren't exactly Dr. Phil to the ex-God's Oprah."

Dean looked away while Sam shuffled his feet. Bobby smiled grimly and went back to the book.

He pointed to the illustration of Cthulhu. "If you thought Cas as God was scary, he's not as scary as this guy here. And there are lots more like him."

"My, my. Am I intruding on a precious moment?" came Crowley's voice. The demon had materialized in the kitchen.

Bobby didn't even blink. He just grabbed his shotgun and shot the demon full of rock salt.

"Is that how you greet old friends?" said Crowley, brushing off the salt on his suit.

Sam grabbed Ruby's knife and lunged at him. Crowley reappeared behind Sam.

"Missed," he said.

"Tell me why we shouldn't gank you right now, you piece of crap," growled Dean. Sam glared at the demon.

"Because you need me. And I need something from you. I thought we could work something out," said Crowley.

"Whatever you're selling, we ain't buying," said Dean.

Crowley smiled lazily. "Are you sure? It's a doozy."

"Look, we're not gonna do this again. You managed to get Cas, you got us working for you and we're not gonna do it again!"

"Ah, brain's working again, I see. And here I thought you two only had your looks." The demon padded around the study, running his finger on a bookcase and looking at the dust disapprovingly.

"Feeling guilty, are we? Sad that our feathery friend lost his way and you didn't help him? Well, boo hoo."

Dean scowled. "What do you want, Crowley?"

"I want Cas."

The hunter turned away from the demon. "Cas is dead."

"Noooo ... don't think so."

Sam eyes widened with surprise. "What do you mean?" Bobby made a face.

"See, the nice thing about being a demon is that we can sniff a soul a mile away," said Crowley.

"Cut the monologue, Hamlet. What is it?" said Dean, his voice hard.

"A hunter who reads Shakespeare. Will wonders never cease."

Dean raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed.

"Your precious Cas isn't gone. He's around. Lost a few pounds, give or take a million, and gained something else," said Crowley.

Sam frowned. "You mean ..."

The King of Hell beamed at him. "At least one of you went to college."

The three remained silent, looking at the demon inquiringly. Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Bloody hell. Do I have to spell out everything?

"Our sweet little angel gained a soul when Death did his liposuction. And I want it."

***  
>Blue eyes opened wide, confused. Puffy, white clouds, set against the forget-me-not sky met his gaze.<p>

Groaning, the man sat up. He winced, realizing he hurt all over. He put his hand to his mouth; it was covered with blood.

Images of a bright light, of men and a woman, of blood, of teary green eyes pleading with him, flashed across his mind.

Looking around, he took stock of his surroundings. He was in the desert; not exactly, he was in a desert that bordered a town. He could some buildings nearby and a few cars on the road.

Getting to his feet shakily, he walked towards the nearest building.

A gasp and a chuckle startled him. Turning around, he saw two women, each atop a horse, staring at him. One of them, a redhead, had her hand to her mouth, while the other one, a brunette, was trying hard not to laugh. She had green eyes.

The green eyes quickly turned from humor to concern when she saw the confusion in his. Getting off her horse, she walked up to him, keeping her eyes on his face.

"You OK, mister?"

The man frowned. He wasn't sure what to say.

The brunette turned to her friend and made a gesture. The redhead sighed and took a blanket out of a bag she had on her horse. She threw it over to the brunette.

Unfolding the blanket, the brunette wrapped it around the man. Only then he realized he was naked. Embarrassment filled him, which surprised him.

"Thank you," he said haltingly.

"Don't mention it," she said, gazing at him curiously. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No."

"Thought so. I'd remember those baby blues." She smiled.

"Noreen," said the redhead warningly. The brunette, Noreen, turned to look at her friend. She gestured Noreen over.

"What?" asked Noreen exasperatedly, once she was close to her friend.

"You don't know this guy. He could be a serial killer."

Noreen rolled her eyes and looked at the strange, naked man.

"Are you a serial killer?" she asked. Her friend gasped and glared at Noreen.

The man mulled the question. "I don't think so."

Unbidden, he saw images of blood and the feel of it on his hands as he pressed his fingers into a man's eyes while simultaneously squeezing his head. The man was wearing a sheriff's uniform. His eyes went guiltily to Noreen and her friend, but they were too busy arguing in whispers to watch him.

He cleared his throat. The women turned to him.

"Thank you for your help, but I think I can take it from here."

Noreen rushed over. "Don't be silly. You're obviously hurt. Liz," she glared at the other woman, "is just being cautious.

"I have my car nearby. Is there somewhere I can drop you off?"

The man shook his head. Noreen's eyes studied him.

"What's your name?" she asked suddenly.

The man frowned. "I'm not sure."


	2. Episode Two

**DISCLAIMER: **Again, I don't own SUPERNATURAL and Kripke is welcome to everything I put in here. But he can offer me a job on the writing staff, in charge of Cas. Dreams, they are nice to have.

**THEN**

"You sit here, having lived 33 years, and you think you know everything?" said Death. "Remember what I said about the human soul. It is strong and more valuable than you can imagine. You now have many souls you have to save. One, in particular."

"Our sweet little angel gained a soul when Death did his liposuction. And I want it," said Crowley.

"What's your name?" asked Noreen.

Blue eyes showed confusion. "I'm not sure."

**NOW**

"Cas has a soul?" asked Sam Winchester, shocked. "Do angels ... Can angels ...?" He blew out a disbelieving breath and sat down.

"Why should we trust you? And why would we want to track Cas down for you?" asked Dean angrily.

Crowley, demon and sneaky bastard par excellence, leaned against the counter, smiling.

"Well, I figured you lot probably have issues with him, what with the whole 'I'll kill you first, no, I'll kill you if you don't serve me'," said the King of Hell, his hand holding a glass of whiskey he had poured from Bobby's stash. He snickered.

"Your idea of family fits right in with mine." He took a sip from the glass and made a face.

"You need some culture, mate. Last time I tasted anything like this, it was at a glue factory."

Bobby shot Crowley again.

"Again with the salt!"

"You insult my whiskey, you get salt. Keep going and you get a stabbing and an exorcism," said Bobby.

Dean grimaced. Crowley's words had struck a nerve. Looking at Sam, he saw his brother wasn't immune either. He made up his mind.

"We're not going after Cas for you," said Dean.

Crowley smiled. "Ah well. Too bad. Guess you don't miss your friends then. Ellen and Jo, right?"

***  
>Dean looked at Bobby, whose face had fallen when Crowley mentioned the Harvelles. Ellen Harvelle, and her daughter Jo, were hunters and their good friends. They had sacrificed themselves so Dean and Sam could get to Lucifer with the Colt. The attempt failed; Lucifer was immune to the Colt. Sam and Dean would have died if Cas had not come in and saved them.<p>

Sam lunged again at Crowley, who adroitly side-stepped him.

"Killing me isn't going to change facts."

"You're lying," said Dean, through gritted teeth.

"Am I? Did you forget how they died? Hellhounds, luv. Makes it easier to harvest the souls for Hell."

"They didn't make a deal."

"That's the beauty of it. They didn't need to," said Crowley, fully enjoying himself. "Call it collateral damage."

Dean took a deep breath. "No." His voice, however, was full of regret.

"Dean!" said Sam in protest. Dean glared at him.

"No," he repeated to Crowley.

The King of Hell shrugged. "Had to try. Word to the wise, boys: watch your tight, toned asses. Don't get in my way.

"Good luck on the race. Toodles."

He left.

"We could have used Crowley," said Sam angrily.

"For what? For status updates? Tweets?" shot back Dean. "No, we're done working with demons."

Sam sighed, frustrated. "I meant we could have got more information from him. About Cas. About Ellen and Jo."

Dean made a face. The thought had crossed his mind, but he'd be damned if he worked with the King of Hell, especially after the grief he gave Cas over the same deal. No, they had to find another way.

He turned to Bobby.

"Any ideas, Bobby?"

"Psychic?" suggested Bobby. "That's our best bet now. Or we can try a summoning spell."

"Summon who?"

"The Nad'almaut rite. To summon Death."

"Are you crazy? He just let us go and you want to bring him back here?"

"Well, he seems to know what's going on."

"Oh really, Bobby? You think?"

"Don't take that tone with me, young man. I can still kick your ass to where the sun don't shine," growled Bobby. Dean glared at him.

Sam stepped into the fray. "Hold on, hold on. Maybe we don't have to go that high up the corporate ladder."

"And what is that, Sam?" asked Dean.

"How about Tessa?"

***  
>Sam and Dean rock-paper-scissored. As usual, Dean lost. He scowled.<p>

"Dude, seriously. When will you learn?" asked Sam, laughing.

"I just don't wanna die again," said Dean, still scowling.

"Better you, than us. If you hadn't noticed, Tessa likes you," drawled Bobby. He was going through his incantations book. The plan was not to have Dean die as he said, but to put him on the astral plane. Hopefully, the idjit would be able to work his mojo and get Tessa to come.

"Yeah, everyone likes you. What's up with that?" asked Sam.

Dean smirked. "I can't help it if I'm adorable."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "As adorable as a chipmunk with a crack pipe." He put down the book. "You ready?"

Dean grimaced, but nodded, taking off his jacket. He lay down on the couch, rising once to warn Sam, "No peas up my nose or hand in warm water."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't even considering it, but thanks for the idea."

Dean scowled, lying back on the couch. Bobby started the incantation, while Sam watched over his brother.

***  
>Dean opened his eyes and sat up. Everything in Bobby's study had a hazy gray tinge to it. He could see the older hunter and his brother watching him, occasionally doing research on the monsters in Purgatory. Bobby had yet another book he lifted from the Campbells'; it dealt with the Phoenix.<p>

_Phoenix? _thought Dean. _But I killed him._

He shrugged off the thought, deciding he had a bigger issue to deal with at the moment. He stood up, trying to ignore the weird sight of his body lying on the couch and walked out.

"Tessa? You there? I'd like some heart-to-heart, one-on-one, or however you chicks call it," he called out.

"Calling us chicks doesn't really help your cause when you're asking a favor, you know," said Tessa, appearing behind him.

Dean turned to face her, flushing. "It got you here."

"What do you want, Dean?"

"Information."

"Such as?" she asked, eyebrows arched. The reaper, in the guise of a pretty brunette, seemed to be fond of Dean, always showing up if he managed to get himself killed or decided to visit the astral plane. Which happened a lot.

"Your boss told me about a soul. And monsters."

"Yes, I'm aware of it."

Dean gave her a half-grin. "Well, he's not exactly the most open book in the library. Left out a lot."

Tessa took a deep breath. "You do his bidding, he doesn't do yours."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that. But we have to know where to start, at least."

Tessa mulled the statement.

"All right," she conceded. "What do you want?"

"Does Cas have a soul?"

"Yes."

"What is he now? Monster? Human? Is he a baby?"

Tessa gave him a disgusted look. "What do you think?"

She sighed when Dean's serious expression didn't change.

"Your friend lost his grace when he transformed into God. When Death reaped him, he turned your friend's essence into a soul. He's human now."

Dean thought the information over. It explained why Crowley wanted Cas badly; an angel-turned-partner-turned-enemy ... a human enemy at that. It was too good a chance for revenge. And since Cas no longer had his grace, he couldn't be reborn.

"Any way you can point us in the right direction?"

She eyed him, as if considering her next words. "Don't you have monsters to hunt?"

He frowned.

"I have to go, Dean," said Tessa, starting to move away.

"Hang on, if you can't tell me that, then tell me one thing." Dean was not sure if he wanted to ask this next question; fearing he would not like the answer. But he had to find out the truth.

"My friends: Ellen and Jo Harvelle; are they in Hell?"

Tessa paused, looking at him sympathetically.

"Yes."

***  
>Dean woke up to find Bobby and Sam looking at him expectantly. Groaning, he rubbed his stiff neck. He didn't realize how tired he was. The last two days had been crazy.<p>

"You OK?" asked Sam.

Dean nodded. "Got any coffee?" he rasped out.

Sam and Bobby looked shocked. "Coffee?" asked Sam incredulously. Dean's wake-me-up beverage of choice was whiskey, bourbon or scotch.

"Whatever," said Dean.

Sam went to the kitchen and got him a beer. Dean grunted "Thanks."

Silence reigned while Dean drained the beer bottle of its contents; Sam and Bobby waiting impatiently.

"Well?" asked Sam, finally. "Did Tessa come?"

Dean grimaced and put down the bottle.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And Crowley was telling the truth." He caught Bobby's eyes. "About everything."

Bobby looked away, his face sad. He still had not got used to the fact that Ellen and Jo were dead. Although he knew a hunter's life was short and violent, it did not lessen the pain he felt losing them, or any other friends he had made in this job.

"So, Cas is human now?" asked Sam.

"Yep, he's got more soul than James Brown, apparently."

"How do we find him?"

"Tessa didn't say. Thinks we should go monster-hunting instead."

Sam did not look happy. "But, Dean. We can't give up on Cas. We - I ..."

His brother looked at him pityingly. He knew what Sam was thinking. They had all acted badly, Cas included. But Sam, being the girl he was, would feel the most guilt; stabbing Cas in the back with the angel sword. Never mind he was still suffering the effects of his soul re-integrating at that time.

"We'll figure something out on the way. About Cas, Elllen and Jo," said Dean, trying to project as much confidence as he could in his words.

Bobby cleared his throat. "If you two girls are finished with your period, I thought you might be interested in what we found while you were out.

"What sticks out when you think of the phoenix?" he asked, opening the book Dean saw when he was on the astral plane.

"I thought we were done with the phoenix."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Phoenix rising from the ashes, sound familiar?"

"Yeah, but he didn't - that dude is dead. Trust me," said Dean, cockily.

"Well, dead or not, this bit can be found in every single story or lore from when the pyramids were the big thing in real estate."

"Spit it out, Bobby."

Sam added, " We think something else will rise."

***  
>Noreen looked at the mystery man with the beautiful blue eyes she and her friend Liz came across during their morning ride almost a week ago. Liz had told her she was an idiot to take a complete stranger in, but Noreen couldn't help it. There seemed something ethereal about this man.<p>

Despite her disapproval, Liz had given him some of her husband's old clothes. Noreen then took him to her family's ranch, where they raised horses. She told her family he was an old college friend who was going through a hard time and just wanted to get away. They had accepted her words; help around the ranch was always appreciated, and anyone willing to work for room and board was fine by them.

Noreen had not expected him to fit in so well at the ranch; she had noticed he had seemed clueless about certain things. He didn't understand some of the slang or the lingo at times and seemed shocked that he was hurt or that he would get hungry and thirsty, for example.

_Whatever truck that hit him sure did a number on him,_ she thought.

But he had taken to the horses immediately and vice versa. His mere presence seemed to calm them. She was surprised since she did not see any signs of him being knowledgable about horses. He didn't know either.

He was now rubbing down Cassopeia, her mare. He had seemed startled when he learned her horse's name, as if it sounded familiar. That made her decide to call him Cas. He had smiled then; a very sad smile.

Cas had taken his shirt off due to the heat and Noreen stood by the stables' door enjoying the sight of his male flesh. His cuts and bruises were healing well.

Sensing her presence, he stopped and turned towards her. She flushed.

"I'm just here with your lunch. My mom said you missed it again," she said quickly to cover her embarrassment at being caught staring ... and frankly, drooling.

Cas gave a small chuckle. "Oh yes. I always forget."

Noreen put down the tray on a bale of hay and waited while Cas put on his shirt, before joining her.

He attacked the plate of lasagna with gusto.

"What is this?" he asked, in between bites.

"Beef lasagna with béchamel sauce. You haven't had it before?"

He shook his head. Noreen frowned. Cas was clearly smart, but some of the stuff he said made her wonder if he had lived under a rock for the last 30 years or so.

"You remember anything yet?" she asked.

Cas hesitated, before admitting, "Some flashes."

"Like?"

"A name."

"Yours?"

"No. A brother, I think. We don't look alike, though."

"Brother by a different mother?"

Cas gave her a blank look. Noreen sighed.

"It means he's someone you consider a brother although you're not related by blood," she explained. "Liz is like a sister to me."

He mulled her explanation. "Brother by a different mother. Yes, that sounds accurate."

Noreen waited. When he didn't continue, she asked, "What's his name?"

Castiel met her eyes, green just like the eyes that would come to him sometimes, amidst all other images of violence and death.

"Dean."


	3. Episode Three

**NOTE: **Thanks to all who reviewed and put this story on alert. Hope you're enjoying it so far. This story is dedicated to all my fellow Casochists, who are hanging on to the hope that our angel will return.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own SUPERNATURAL. Kripke does and I honestly hope he loves all his characters as much as we love them.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>  
>"We can stick the pig till he squeals," suggested Bobby.<p>

"I may have reaped God but the natural order is far from being restored. There are more monsters loose in this world. You and your brother will have to clean up this mess you and your friends made," said Death.

"He's human now," said Tessa.

"You remember anything yet?" asked Noreen.

"A name," said Cas. "Dean."

**NOW**- A month later

Castiel started noticing the townspeople acting strangely about a week ago, when he went to town with Noreen to pick up some supplies. At first it was only one or two people who seemed out of sorts. Then the numbers increased. Most seemed dazed and forgetful. Many were irritable, while others were delusional. There had been a few scuffles and some suicides.

Today was no different. The cashier at the grooming store, where they had gone to pick up supplies for Noreen's mare, was listless, her eyes dull. She did not bother to greet them. Based on Noreen's expression, Castiel gleaned this was not the girl's usual behavior.

Castiel was enjoying his new life, even as he remembered more about what had happened. Many things still escaped him, however. Other than Dean, the man with the green eyes, he remembered two other men, Sam and Bobby. He felt love for and protective of all three, as well as sadness and anger. The strongest feelings were for Dean.

He had told Noreen that he thought Dean was his brother. But then he realized it was more. He felt protective towards the man, as if the man was a child he had rescued. He also felt respect and admiration, as if the man was his comrade and guide. And he felt disappointment and grief, as if the man had abandoned him.

With the three men, he had tortured and killed the sheriff, his fingers digging into the man's eyes, while Castiel squeezed his head, harshly asking him for a location. But the man wasn't a man. Castiel remembered the sheriff was "wrong," but he could not tell what.

It made him wonder what he was in his past life.

Noreen put her items on the counter, startling him out of his reverie. The cashier looked at Noreen, but her eyes did not register the woman.

"Hey, Mandy. I'm ready," said Noreen, waving her hand in front of the cashier.

Mandy didn't respond. Castiel frowned, perplexed. Something didn't feel right. He moved closer to Noreen.

Noreen didn't notice his concerns and gave Mandy a gentle shake and a "Hey, you OK?"

Mandy's dull eyes finally registered Noreen. She screamed, bringing up her hand; in it was a pair of scissors. She stabbed Noreen in her arm, screaming all the while, spittle flying from her lips.

Noreen fell back in shock and pain, her hand holding her injured arm. Castiel moved in and for some strange reason, touched Mandy on the forehead.

It did nothing to her, other than shift her attention to him.

Hands hooked as claws and still screaming, she lunged at Castiel, transversing the counter to land on top of him. They fell to the floor. Eyes furious, Mandy clawed at Castiel, drawing blood. He grabbed her hands, holding them away from him, using his body to push her to the floor while he sought to get on top. He finally succeeded, pinning her to the floor and banging the hand with the scissors against it. They fell from her grasp.

She still kicked and screamed expletives at him, until finally, Castiel slapped her, hard. Her head hit the floor and she went still.

Breathing heavily, Castiel got to his feet. He had scratches on his face and arms; the shirt doing nothing to protect him from Mandy's attack.

Noreen rushed over to the cashier, checking on her. She turned wondering eyes to Cas.

"Is she -" asked Cas.

Noreen shook her head. "She's fine. You just knocked her unconscious." She took out her cellphone.

"We should probably call - hey, what are you doing?" she asked, surprised. Cas had grabbed the cellphone out of her hands and was now hauling her to her feet. Firmly, he pushed her towards the door.

"Mandy's hurt. We have to ... Cas, are you listening to me?"

He ignored her and, practically carrying her 5'8" frame, deposited her into her truck. He took her keys and got into the driver's seat. Noreen told herself the only reason she didn't run out was because she was curious to see Cas take charge suddenly. And because Cas in charge was too fascinating.

"You don't have a license," she pointed out.

"I've observed you driving this contraption. How hard can it be?"

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Cas didn't notice it; instead he was more concerned with her arm - it was still bleeding even though she had wrapped her handkerchief over it like a tourniquet. "Will you be all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm more worried about your driving."

He grinned at her; an actual grin. He looked as shocked by it as her. A bit confusedly, he started the truck and drove out.

Somewhat to her surprise, Cas's driving was just fine. In retrospect, she guessed she shouldn't be. She was amazed at how quickly he picked up things; even though he had described riding in cars as "slow" and "confining." He didn't have the same issues with horses, though. He loved riding and taking care of them; he was "a natural" as her father had commented.

"We shouldn't have left Mandy," she said, suddenly remembering why they had gone to town.

Cas gave her a sideways glance but kept his eyes on the road. Only when they were out of town and heading back to the ranch, did he speak again.

"There's something wrong with the town," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"The humans. They were acting ... strange."

Noreen mulled his words. Humans, she thought. Like he didn't think he was one. She shrugged off his odd choice of words and considered what she had seen.

Truth be told, she had noticed the people around town acting strangely. Old deputy Parker was sitting on the bench, staring into space; it was unlike the busybody. Mandy had attacked her. Horace and Lilly were making out in front of the store, and they were old. And married. To other people. Others were more forgetful, angry.

She wondered why no one at the ranch was affected; not that she could see anyway. Maybe it was just a matter of time.

***  
>The next night, Castiel woke up to the sound of scratching on his door, like someone was trying to get in. He had chosen to stay in one of the rooms adjoining the stables to be close to the horses. He also felt they would warn him if something was wrong.<p>

He listened closely. The horses were not reacting to the scratching, so the late-night visitor probably wasn't supernatural.

Now, why did he think that?

"Cas?" he heard Noreen's voice. He unlocked the door and opened it.

Noreen stood outside, swaying slightly in her filmy nightgown, her eyes bright, rimmed with red. She took one look at him, clad only in his trousers and smiled.

Quick as lightning, she put her arms around his neck and planted her lips on his, her body curving into his.

Castiel was taken aback. At first, he did nothing and accepted her kiss, even enjoying it, but then sanity intruded. He grabbed her hands, untangling them from his hair and held them, breaking the kiss in the process.

He touched her face. She was not feverish, but her eyes were overly bright.

"What's wrong? Why won't you kiss me back? Are you gay? Is this Dean your boyfriend?" she asked breathlessly.

"I'm very happy here, yes."

She looked at him in confused surprise. "Huh?" Then her mind laboriously made the connection. "Oh, no, no, no. Gay is not happy. I mean, gay does mean happy, but happy, happy - it's not what I meant."

Castiel gave her a puzzled look. Gently, he guided her to his bed and sat her down there. Avoiding her hands, he took the chair opposite the bed.

Pouting, she lay on the bed. But her eyes stayed on him, as much they could. She seemed to have a hard time focusing. He thought she looked exhausted.

"When was the last time you slept?" he suddenly asked.

Noreen blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Slept. When was the last time you closed your eyes?"

She grimaced. "The day before yesterday."

Castiel went to her and undid the bandage on her arm, exposing the deep cut Mandy had made when she stabbed Noreen with the scissors. His eyes took in the scratch marks along the cut; they stood out in ugly contrast to the wound. The scratch marks looked almost black while the cut was reddish-brown as it was healing.

He looked at her, lying in his bed. Tenderly, he caressed her cheek.

"I think you're infected."

***  
>Castiel didn't know how he knew, but he knew with all his being that whatever was ailing the townspeople and now Noreen was a monster. He had kept her in his room, deciding it was best to keep her isolated lest she infected someone else at the ranch. No one really cared; it just seemed to confirm their suspicions that Noreen had a crush on Castiel.<p>

He was not concerned about himself; he seemed to be immune from whatever disease that Mandy had passed on to Noreen.

Castiel knew to help Noreen and everyone in town, he had to find out more. He decided to start with Deputy Parker. Just in case, he took Noreen's rifle and a hoof knife with him.

As he neared the police station, Castiel was struck by new memories. In one, he was being threatened, and Dean had come in and beheaded the officer threatening him. In the other, he was trying to get information from an officer. Dean was there too.

Gunshots nearby startled him out of his reverie. Running to the source, he saw Deputy Parker with his gun out. The man had just shot a squirrel.

Sensing Castiel behind him, the deputy turned, the gun still in his hand.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?" The gun is the deputy's hand made Castiel nervous, a feeling that was still alien to him.

"That thing came at me out of nowhere! Its teeth and claws; it was an evil apocalyptic zombie squirrel, man."

Parker slumped against the wall, muttering, "It's just like the nightmares I used to have as a kid."

"You have nightmares about squirrels?"

The deputy flushed. "They're like tiny, furry Sarah Palins without the looks; they come out of nowhere and get you. And they won't go away, no matter how hard you try."

Castiel wondered how many more people were acting out their nightmares and dreams. He studied the deputy and saw the black scratch on the deputy's arm. It looked older than Noreen's but not by much.

"How did you get that scratch?" asked Castiel.

Parker looked at his arm. "About two weeks ago, I guess. From that gun nut."

"What gun nut?"

The deputy looked dazedly at the stranger; Noreen's college buddy, he hazily remembered. "Couple of gun nuts outside of town. Went nuts ... well, nuttier ... and decided to do target shooting on each other."

"They're dead?"

Parker shook his head. "One was still alive. We were calling the doc out, but this guy went Rambo on us. We took him down, but I'm telling you, it wasn't easy."

He slumped agains the wall, closing his eyes. "I'm so tired."

"Where is he? The .. uh ... the gun nut."

"Dead."

***  
>Sam Winchester read the news article carefully. He and Dean were in their motel room, in yet another nameless town. They had arrived here a week before to follow up cases involving several mysterious deaths by drowning.<p>

After a few days, they found out it was a water sprite, who got her jollies by drowning anyone she thought was abusing the lake she had made her home. They had killed her and sent her back to Purgatory.

Before that, they had gone after a banshee. They had never encountered one before, but Dean had the bright idea of playing back her scream at her. It was tough since they had to go around with mufflers over their ears the whole time. It was a gamble but it worked.

Bobby had told them other hunters were after the monsters from Purgatory as well. So far, they had managed to keep their involvement in releasing the monsters quiet, but it was a matter of time before the other hunters found out. And blamed them.

For people who worked hard at saving the world, they sure were great at breaking it first.

On top of that, they had Ellen and Jo in Hell, and newly-souled Cas at the back of their minds.

Sam was feeling tired. It seemed like they did nothing but chase monsters all day, every day. Every person they met while on the road was a single-job friend; no lasting attachment. The only constant in their lives were Bobby and Cas, and now, they didn't even have Cas.

"What are you reading? Did Blair get back together with Chuck?" asked Dean. He was sitting in the motel's ratty couch, cleaning his gun.

Sam made a face. "I don't know if I should be worried that you even know those names or that I know what you meant."

He showed the news article to Dean. "It's a report about a bunch of suicides, accidental deaths, some assaults."

Dean read the article and whistled. "Someone lace the town well with pcp?"

"Dunno."

"Where is this place?"

"It's a few miles west of here. Some place where they raise horses."


	4. Episode Four

**NOTE:** Thanks again to all reviewers and those who put this story on alert. Reviews especially help me improve and make sure I manage to convey what I mean. So my heartfelt gratitude to all who took time out to do so.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Supernatural. Kripke et al, feel free to take my story and save Cas. Heck, use it as the model for a Cas spin-off for all I care. Just keep Cas.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>

"You have many souls you have to save. One, in particular," said Death.

"If you thought Cas as God was scary, he's not as scary as this guy here. And there are plenty more where he came from," said Bobby, pointing to an illustration of Cthulhu.

"I think you're infected," said Castiel to Noreen.

"How did you get that scratch?" asked Castiel.

Parker looked at his arm. "About two weeks ago, I guess. From that gun nut."

**NOW**

Castiel went to the gun nuts' house. It was situated just outside town, with plenty of space for target shooting. He was still uncomfortable with guns, although Noreen had taken him aside and taught him how to use a rifle. She had reminded him that these guns were important to protect the horses.

He had already gone to the town morgue, asking the deputy to let him in. He remembered yet another time he was in a morgue; Dean and Sam were there too. He was feeling more and more frustrated, with each flash of memory he got. It was like seeing parts of a painting, but not the full picture.

Deputy Parker, already suffering from severe sleep-deprivation, had readily agreed to his request. In his state, he was apathetic and too ready to shoot squirrels or anything small and furry. Castiel sincerely hoped all the town cats and dogs were in hiding.

The morgue had already released the two bodies for burial so all Castiel had to go on was the autopsy reports. The official cause of death was gunshot wound to the chest, although the report noted only one of the bodies had scratches on it. The other, the one who died later, just had the gunshot.

Walking around the compound, Castiel discovered a patch of scorched earth. It looked weeks old. He crouched next to it, testing the sandy dirt with his fingers. The dirt had solidified from the heat. But he saw the footprints by it and deduced it belonged to the surviving gun nut - the first one infected.

He took out the cellphone he had swiped from Noreen and dialed Liz's number. She lived outside of town, on a nearby ranch.

"Hello?"

Castiel cleared his throat uncomfortably. The cellphone seemed familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. "Uh, yes. Liz, it's me, Cas."

"Oh," she said. Her voice still held traces of disapproval. Castiel was starting to discern the different inflections in tones. "What do you want?"

"Was there anything strange last month?"

"Other than you?"

Castiel had not considered this before, but Liz was right. His arrival probably did coincide with this phenomenon. He wondered if he had something to do with it. He hoped not.

"Yes."

"There was one meteor or comet but it was nothing. It didn't even hit land." She paused. "Why? And why are you using Noreen's phone? Where is she?"

"She is ..." Castiel thought wildly about what he should say. Somehow, he didn't think the truth would go over well. He chose the short version. "She is resting in my room."

He heard her laugh. "You guys up all night?"

"Yes."

"Not bad, Mysterioso." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Just make sure you don't hurt her."

"She's not hurt. Just very tired."

She laughed again, this time louder and harder. "I bet."

Castiel was confused. There was obviously something he was missing here, but he did not know what it was.

"Thank you for your help, Liz." He hung up, wondering why Liz seemed so amused when he told her Noreen was resting in his room. It was the truth after all.

**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**

Castiel couldn't shake this worry that he was somehow responsible for what was happening to the town. He wished he remembered fully what he was, instead of getting flashes of memory and relying on his instincts.

He decided to go to the town library. He wasn't sure if he would find anything worthwhile there, but he had to try. Without his memories, he knew he was working at a disadvantage.

Once there, he was careful to check the librarian or anyone else there for black scratches. There was none that he could see. The librarian seemed disinterested regardless, but Castiel thought it was probably because she was a librarian.

She pointed him to the occult section in the library and went back to the engrossing task of catapulting fat birds into flimsy constructions made of wood and glass surrounding green pigs.

The occult section in the library wasn't very big and it included some odd tomes. Castiel saw Harry Potter and Twillight among them; the former a brightly colored book, which was odd for a book on the occult, while the other had a picture of a shiny young man on the cover. He bypassed the two and let his eyes scan his choices.

A title caught his notice. Der Sandmann by E. T. A. Hoffman. He took it out and sat down with it at a table.

Next, he searched for a book on Greek myths. Finding one, he opened it to a listing under M. He also got a book on poetry.

**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**

It was just about after 1pm when Sam and Dean Winchester rolled into town. Dean wasn't feeling very hungry, but Sam was, and made his brother head to the closest diner; it seemed a good one because it was pretty full.

They chose a table in the corner, where they could see the rest of the diner. A waitress came to take their order, looking expectantly at them to start the ball rolling. Obviously, she couldn't be bothered to ask them what they wanted or even suggest what they should order.

Dean ordered his usual cheeseburger while Sam got his salad. Dean didn't bother making any jibes; he didn't feel much like giving his brother a hard time at the moment.

He didn't tell Sam, but he was feeling a mess. He had been operating almost on automatic these last few weeks: Anger, worry, sadness... all of them mixed up with one thing in common: Cas. Now that he had had a month to process, Dean realized he was still angry with the former angel. He understood that Cas felt he needed to do what he needed to stop a second Apocalypse but did Cas need to hurt Sam in the process? He knew Sam had forgiven Cas, but Dean wasn't ready. Despite his anger, he did not want his former friend dead. He wanted to punch the hell out of Cas, leave him bloodied and half-dead from a beating, and possibly begging for mercy, but not dead.

Sam caught his eye.

"Still thinking about Cas?"

Dean made a face.

"Dude, you have to let it go. I'm fine, Cas fixed me. I remember my time down there but it doesn't hurt. He took away the pain," persisted Sam.

"He hurt you, Sammy. He broke your wall. And for what? To delay us? To delay me? It's not that easy."

Sam gave an exasperated sigh. "Dean, you're my big brother and I love you. But you have to stop treating me like a kid. I can take a few hits. Hell, I'm bigger than you; I can take more."

Dean glared at his brother. "Having a sasquatch body doesn't make you right. I'm not letting him off that easy, OK?"

Sam gave him his bitchface in return. "Whatever."

Their food came then; _perfect timing_, thought Dean. Ignoring Sam, he bit into his burger and gave a disgusted snort. The burger was missing something important, the most important bit as far as Dean was concerned. It was missing the patty.

"What's wrong?" asked Sam.

"No beef. These people must think I'm you or something."

"What do you care? It's not as if you've been eating much anyway."

Dean gave Sam a dirty look and looked around for the disinterested waitress but didn't see her. He saw another though, and called her over. She was young, blonde and pretty. Dean's face settled into his usual cocky smirk when dealing with an attractive member of the fairer sex. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart," said Dean when she got to the table. Her nametag said her name was Yvonne. "Think you forgot something, Yvonne."

He showed her the offending burger; two lonely halves with lettuce, onions, cheese, tomatoes but no meat.

"I'm so sorry. I'll bring a new one out immediately," said the blonde, smiling back at the handsome man in front of her. She took his plate and walked towards the kitchen, putting in an extra swing to her hips just in case the green-eyed hottie was looking. He was.

Sam gave Dean an exasperated look. "Is this how we're going to do things? I guess I shouldn't be surprised; we never deal with what your issues anyway."

"What's your beef?" Dean realized what he had just said and smirked. "Get it? Should be where's the beef instead."

His brother stared at Dean. The words "You're an idiot" hung in the air.

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's probably funnier in Enochian," he muttered.

A commotion and a scream coming from the kitchen startled them. The brothers left their table and ran off to the kitchen, their hands going to their guns surreptitiously. A few diner employees ran out; they could see tears on one of the women. Dean pushed open the doors.

He saw the cook hacking at the young blonde waitress - Yvonne - with a cleaver, sending blood and bits of flesh and tissue everywhere. Dean could see she was already dead; Yvonne's wide staring eyes seemed to judge him for failing to stop Cas from opening the door to Purgatory, for not giving Cas a reason to dump the souls and return to him once the door was open, for allowing this monster to kill her. Taking his gun out, Dean aimed at the cook.

The man, standing at 6' 2" and built like an NFL player with an added bonus of a rotund belly and pure insane rage, saw the glint of light reflecting off Dean's gun and threw the bloody cleaver at the hunter, just as Dean squeezed the trigger. He ducked, but the shot went wide. He aimed again, but the cook, snarling with rage, ran to him, jumping on the shocked hunter. They crashed through the doors.

The cook's meaty hands went around Dean's throat, squeezing the life out of him. Dean blinked; he could see lights flashing. He tried to push the cook off, but the man's weight plus the lack of oxygen were making him weak. But he also had the traitorous thought running in his mind, _Finally. _He stopped struggling and closed his eyes; almost welcoming the peace and darkness that were waiting for him.

A _clang_ sounded and the vice grip on his throat slackened. Dean opened his eyes to see Sam standing over him and the cook, who was now unconscious and using Dean as his bed.

Gasping, Dean waved his hand at Sam. "A little help?"

His eyes a mystery, Sam grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him up while he pushed the fat cook off of him. Looking around, Dean saw most of the diner's patrons had fled. There were one or two still there, but they didn't really seem to care that a vicious murder had just occurred under their noses.

"Yeah, nothing wrong with this town at all," muttered Dean under his breath. He gingerly felt his throat; it felt raw but otherwise OK. It was the scratches that concerned him, they stung.

**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**

On his way back to the ranch, Castiel saw the signpost for the cemetery and changed directions, driving the truck onto the road on an impulse. He knew the names of the gun nuts; maybe he could find out more from their graves.

Without really thinking, Castiel took out the shovel at the back of Noreen's truck and walked towards the tombstones. He also looked for salt, but there was none. He did not bother wondering why he was doing this or how he was sure he was doing the right thing. He had decided to let his instincts take the wheel; anything else would have to take a backseat and bitch about the driving.

His eyes carefully scanned the names on the white stones, also looking for signs of a fresh grave.

His feet slowed and stopped. He saw only one fresh grave; the one next to it was disturbed as if someone had dug himself out of it. The names matched.

"Hey there, Clarence," a smug female voice came from behind.

Castiel turned, dread filling him.

"Meg," he said.

Meg smiled. "So you do remember. Or maybe not," she added, after noting his confusion when he said her name.

She shook her head. "What am I going to do with you, Clarence?" The woman, with dark hair and eyes, gave him an impish and very suggestive look, her eyes slowly going over him.

"Mmmm ...I knew I'd like you out of the trenchcoat, but you in a shirt and jeans ... damn, I think I'd like you out of them, too.

"And with a bright spanking new soul too. You're just a mass of creamy, yummy goodness, aren't you?" she said as she circled him, her eyes never leaving his.

Castiel looked at her warily, thinking about her words. He could also see, that although this woman looked like a cute brunette, there was also another face under hers; an ugly, dark and frightening face. Strangely enough, he was not afraid. And her words were curious: _new soul. _What did she mean by that?

"How do I know you?" he asked. "And what are you?"

Meg didn't answer, grinning wickedly instead. She continued to study Castiel; he could practically see gears working overtime while she plotted her next strategy.

"You know, everyone in Hell is after your pretty little ass -" At this, Meg slapped Castiel on his butt. "- And I'm the one who found you. Lucky me."

"Hell?" Castiel looked at the woman closely, this time paying attention to the face underneath. Realization dawned. "You're a demon."

"Give the boy a cigar."

Silence followed Meg's announcement, as demon and new human stared at each other. Finally, Castiel asked, "Are you dragging me to Hell?"

Meg's eyes seemed to gleam. "Not just yet."

"Poor forgetful, deluded Clarence," she continued, crossing her arms.

"Why do you keep calling me that? Is that my name?" asked Castiel. He thought of the name Clarence; it didn't sound as right as Cas, which Noreen had decided to call him after her horse, Cassopeia.

"Why do you think?"

He gave her a blank look. The demon rolled her eyes and muttered, "Really should add 'It's a Wonderful Life' to your DVD collection."

Castiel frowned. He was getting tired of this baiting from a demon. Turning away, he started heading towards the truck, not caring if Meg did anything. He was sure she could kill him in a second, but again, that fear, which should be natural when confronted with an evil spawn from Hell, was missing.

"I'm not done yet," snapped Meg. He felt something then, a pressure against him, trying to reel him in like a hook. But it somehow failed to find a foothold, slipping off him like a hook hitting water. He turned towards her, his eyes questioning.

Meg's face was an open book. Her eyes were wide with surprise, shock and perhaps, fear. He saw her clenching her fist and again he felt the pressure, but just as before, it failed to connect. The demon looked at him thoughtfully.

"Interesting," she said.


	5. Episode Five

**NOTE:** Thanks again to all reviewers and those who put this story on alert. Reviews especially help me improve and make sure I manage to convey what I mean. So my heartfelt gratitude to all who took time out to do so.

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Supernatural. Kripke does, so on and so forth.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>

"Was there anything strange that happened last month?" asked Castiel.

"Other than you?" replied Liz.

"Our sweet little angel gained a soul when Death did his liposuction. And I want it," said Crowley.

"I think you're infected," said Castiel, looking at the ugly black scratches on Noreen's arm.

_Finally, _Dean thought traitorously as he felt the cook's hands tightened around his neck. He stopped struggling and closed his eyes; almost welcoming the peace and darkness that were waiting for him.

**NOW**

Castiel drove back to the ranch, his mind full with what the demon, Meg, had told him. After failing to attack him with her powers, she had tried to attack him physically with a dagger. Not that it worked. With an instinct that was as natural to him as speed to tornadoes, he had easily disarmed her with one move and held her against a tree. He considered killing her, but he wasn't sure how to kill a demon. And anyway, he wanted to know what she knew.

At that point, any information was welcome, even if the source was suspect.

"How did you do that? You're human now. How can you be immune?" she had hissed.

Castiel cocked his head at her, curious. "Was I ever anything else?"

Meg gave a humorless laugh, "You can say that again, Clarence. I can see why Crowley wants you so badly."

"Enough," he growled. "Stop talking in riddles. What is going on? Who am I? _What_ am I?"

The demon smirked. "You know just what to say to get me all hot and bothered. Don't suppose the Pizza Man ring any bells?"

Castiel raised his eyebrows, looking intently at her. His hand tightened around her neck, reminding her the grip could easily be tighter. He wasn't sure it would harm the demon, but considering he was immune from her powers, they were on even ground.

Meg rolled her eyes and made a face; not difficult for someone so hellishly endowed.

She had told him then; that he was once an angel of the Lord, that he had prevented the Apocalypse with "two TV Guide cover boys" Sam and Dean Winchester, and an "old fart" Bobby Singer. At the urging of Crowley, the King of Hell, he had started a Civil War in Heaven to prevent another Apocalypse, but to win, he had had to open the door to Purgatory and take the souls within that dimension. In the process, he had hurt Sam, double-crossed Crowley - but he was a demon so as far as Castiel was concerned, it was needed - tortured a monster and killed his "frat brother," who had betrayed him. Castiel had won the war, destroyed his rival, Raphael, and saved the world, but the souls had corrupted him and he had declared himself God. Death had stepped in and reaped him of the monster souls, turning what was left of him into a human soul.

Most importantly, he learned his name: it was Castiel, although his friends called him Cas.

Castiel had not known what to make of the information; it was too big, too overwhelming. Worse, he didn't like what he had heard. He was responsible after all for what was happening to the town, to Noreen. The monsters souls that escaped when Death reaped him were now loose in the world. In saving the world, he might have put it in equal or greater harm. His heart lurched at the thought; Noreen had taken him in when he was lost and this was how he repaid her.

His eyes now went to the small pouches on the passenger seat, still unsure whether they did more good than harm. Meg had given them to him earlier.

She had surprised him with them. Reeling from the shock of the information Meg had given him, and the guilt it brought, he had let her go. Instead of leaving, she had thrown him several small pouches containing some foul-smelling ingredients.

Discerning his puzzled expression correctly, she had told him, "They're hex bags. Keeps you safe from demons. If I found you, it's a matter of time before Crowley's lap dogs did the same."

"How did you find me?"

She had smiled then, a very knowing smile. "I keep tabs on you."

"How do you know all this?" The pouches in his hands had felt familiar.

"I hear things."

He stared at her suspiciously. Finally, he had asked her, "Why are you helping me?" He doubted a demon from Hell had any good intentions.

"Helping you helps me ... for now," came the cryptic reply, before she disappeared.

**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**

Sam handed Dean the bag containing the antibiotic ointment he had bought at the drugstore. Grunting his thanks, Dean meticulously washed out his wounds and slapped generous amounts of the ointment on his neck. After an hour or so observing the town's response to Yvonne the waitress's murder, they had driven around until they found this dingy motel situated just outside of town; no doubt to serve the town's horny teenagers and married adults scratching their seven-year itch.

Sam sat quietly in the background, watching Dean administer to the scratches.

"Doesn't make sense; they're just scratches, they shouldn't be hurting so much," commented Dean. Sam remained silent, his eyes on his brother. Sighing, Dean put down the ointment and faced Sam.

"What?" he asked, a trifle belligerently.

Sam looked at him, his face a mixture of anger and worry. "You think I didn't notice?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw you in there, Dean. When that guy was choking you. You gave up. You wanted him to kill you," said Sam.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror, ignoring Sam. It did nothing to shut him up.

"You always do this," continued Sam. "You never deal, you just ignore everything, push everything down until one day, you snap and some poor guy gets it."

"Well, luckily, no poor guy has got it yet."

Sam gave him a disgusted look. "That poor guy is mostly you."

Dean grimaced, but remained silent. He kept his back to Sam, worried if his brother saw his face, he would never shut up.

He heard Sam sigh. "Look, I understand how hard it's been. You've been to Hell, you tortured souls, you loved and trusted Cas, and he betrayed you. You've lost Lisa and Ben -" Dean's head snapped up. "- you've lost a lot and always, always you think you have to be the one to fix it.

"Dude, enough is enough."

"I told you to never mention their names again," said Dean quietly. The menace in his voice was made all the more menacing due to the quiet tones he used. Sam raised his eyebrows, wondering if he should push the issue. He realized he usually never bothered to go that far in the past, always backing off when his brother warned him off. He made up his mind.

"You should never have asked Cas - _his last act to you as a friend_ - to wipe their memories," said Sam, bracing himself for the assault. Dean faced his brother, glaring at him, but he could not bring himself to break Sam's nose as he had threatened before. Slumping against the dresser, he rubbed his neck, thinking over Sam's words.

No, he couldn't do it. It would break him.

Dean stood up and grabbed his jacket, headed for the door. Sam, who had tensed up when Dean moved, expecting a punch from his big brother, gaped at him instead, going slack-jawed at Dean's lack of reaction.

"That's it? You're just going to walk away now, like always?"

"What do you want, Sammy? You want me to talk about it? And then we can hug and everything is all right again?" growled Dean. "Life doesn't work like that. There is no happy ending wrapped up in a bow waiting for us. You might as well forget it."

He opened the door and slammed it shut, wishing it could block out Sam's disappointed and angry face from his mind.

**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**

Castiel arrived at the ranch to find Noreen was missing from his room. Her family wasn't worried, they were still clueless that anything was wrong with her. A few ranch hands told Castiel they had seen take her horse, Cassopeia, out, although the mare had shied away from her at first.

Swearing under his breath - a ranch was great for picking up colorful words - Castiel asked if they heard her mention any specific place when she left. They didn't know.

He got back in the truck and headed out, going in the general direction where people had last seen Noreen going. In her state, she was liable to fall and break her neck.

**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**

Sam called Bobby, as he was wont to do when he was angry with his brother's stubbornness.

"He won't listen. He has so many issues he has to deal with that he'd rather die than face them," he told the older hunter.

"Your brother has always been stubborn. He takes after your dad, in that respect," said Bobby.

"I don't know what to do anymore."

"I think you two need to find Cas."

"What about the monsters?"

"You can go after the monsters while looking for him. Dean needs to find Cas and beat the crap out of that angel-God-human. Hell, you know Dean only works out his issues with his fists. He's not gonna change anytime soon."

Sam ran his hand over his face, thinking over the truth in Bobby's words. "Good idea, but we don't know where Cas is. Unless you figured out a way to track him down?"

Bobby paused. Sam sat up, suddenly interested. "Bobby, did you track Cas down? How?"

Sam heard some shuffling of papers, and then he heard Bobby's garrulous answer, "I tapped a psychic to track the feather-butt. She didn't see much."

"What did she see?"

"Horses and shadows. And fire."

**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**

It was dusk when Castiel spied a dark form in front of him. It was a horse. Fear and worry gripping him, he stepped on the accelerator. As he got closer, he saw it was Cassopeia, but she was riderless. She was nuzzling the ground, biting into whatever plants that grew in the sparse terrain.

Castiel got out and approached the mare. The animal recognized him and nuzzled him, brushing her head against his pockets, seeking any treats he might have hidden. Patting her, he looked around for any signs of Noreen. There was none.

"I don't suppose you know where Noreen is, do you?" he asked the animal softly. Cassopeia continued to nuzzle him.

Castiel was at a loss. He didn't want to abandon Cassopeia, hoping she would find her way back to the ranch, but he wanted to find Noreen. She was his only friend since he became human.

Making a decision, he got on Cassopeia. Maybe she could lead him to where Noreen was.

A mile or so ahead, he saw a dark figure lying on the ground. He could not tell what it was in the failing light, but it seemed human-like enough for him to spur the horse forward. Once he was close, he jumped off Cassopeia and walked towards the figure, his footsteps faltering.

It was not Noreen. It was a man, and if Castiel remembered the photos from the autopsy report correctly, it was the gun nut; the first one infected.

**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**

Dean stumbled back to the motel room. He knew he was legally drunk, but he didn't feel like it. He still felt in control after all. What the alcohol managed to do, however, was dampen the pain he felt each time he thought about Lisa and Ben, and Cas, and Ellen and Jo, and Rufus, and Ash, and finally his parents. Sam was right; he had had many unresolved issues, but they had piled on so much over the years, he wouldn't know how to start fixing himself. So he did what was first instinct for him now; push everything down and move on.

Spending time at the bar proved to be worthwhile, anyway. He found out more about the strange behavior among some of the residents. One flirty waitress told him about her friend, a police officer, who was now shooting squirrels left and right. From the way she had hesitated before saying the word "friend," Dean figured they were more than that. She had hightailed out of town when he pulled out a gun at her cat, deciding to take a room at the motel instead. Room 134, she was careful to tell Dean, in case he was interested. He wasn't.

He was interested in what the waitress was telling him, however. She had continued telling him about her "friend," that he had had trouble sleeping, which had made him paranoid and scary. Dean had thanked her then and left.

He pushed open the door to the motel room to see Sam eating yet another chicken salad at the table, while his other hand toyed with his laptop. He did not say a word, but instead pushed a paper box towards Dean. Dean nodded his thanks and opened the container, finding a cheeseburger and a slice of pie. They were obviously a peace offering.

As much as he'd like to believe it, the burger and pie did not mean Sam had given up getting Dean to resolve his "issues." Instead, they signaled that his brother had decided on a different tactic to get what he wanted.

His stomach growling, he pushed aside any thoughts of mind-hugs from Sam, and dug into the burger and pie with Sam watching him. It was getting a bit unnerving.

Dean waved a pie-laden fork towards the laptop.

"Found anything interesting?" he asked.

His face neutral, Sam turned the laptop towards his brother. "Nothing much. Except for an emergency stock order from a pharmacy for sleeping pills."

"Sleeping pills?"

"Yeah. They're out of stock. I noticed the out-of-stock signs earlier when I got you your ointment."

"Anything else?"

"Liquor stores are running out too." Sam gave Dean a pointed look, wrinkling his nose. "Did you notice when you were out? You smell like a distillery, by the way."

Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring the jibe. Now that Sam mentioned it, the bar had seemed a bit short on supply, the waitress not being able to fill out some of his orders. In the end, he had settled for a mix of drinks: scotch, whiskey, rum, tequila, even wine. He told his brother, adding, "So what does all of this mean?"

Sam shrugged. "Alcohol and sleeping pills. They have one thing in common; they help people sleep. You should know, liquor helps _you_ sleep."

Dean put his fork down, any interest in food gone. He didn't really have much of an appetite anyway, but the last meal he had was yesterday since their visit to the diner had proven disastrous. Eating was also a way to kill time and he had hoped it would get Sam off his back.

"What are you trying to say, Sammy?" he asked aggressively.

Sam gave him a disgusted look but kept quiet. Dean could still see the gears clicking in his mind, however.

"Spit it out. Don't wuss out on me now," he added.

"You already know what I think," said Sam mutinously.

Dean grunted. He had been granted a reprieve. Tiredly, he rubbed his eyes. He thought longingly of bed.

"The waitress at the bar said her boyfriend had trouble sleeping," he said, bringing the conversation back on track. "So we dealing with a monster whose gig is to roofie people with No Doze?"

"Sleep is very important, Dean. Go long enough without it, you get irritable and mad. People won't be able to distinguish between dreams and reality," said Sam.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well? Don't keep me in suspense. I know you found something."

"I did a search on sleep disorders and lore. I only came up with one thing."

"And that is?"

"The Sandman."


	6. Episode Six

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Supernatural.

**THEN**

"I think you're infected," said Castiel, looking at the ugly black scratches on Noreen's arm.

The cook's meaty hands went around Dean's throat, squeezing the life out of him.

"What's his name?" asked Noreen. Castiel met her eyes, green just like the eyes that would come to him sometimes, amidst all other images of violence and death. "Dean."

"I think you two need to find Cas," said Bobby to Sam.

**NOW**

It was dark now, the sun going to its resting place almost half an hour ago, giving up its ascendancy to the moon. Castiel could not see the gun nut's body, but running his hands over the man's body, he could tell the man had died from a broken neck. Before the light had failed, he had seen another set of footsteps next to the gun nut. They were smaller and feminine: Noreen's. At least she was still alive when she left the guy's body, but in the dark, Castiel was worried that she would not last for long.

He knew he had no choice but to go back to the ranch. For one thing, he needed supplies to conduct his own search. He wondered if he should ask the ranchers to help him search for Noreen; after all, she was the boss's daughter, they were bound to be concerned. But he decided against it. He didn't want anyone else getting infected. Anyway, Noreen was an adult, not a little girl. She had spent nights away from the ranch before without telling anyone, taking Cassopeia with her.

_Cassopeia_. Castiel's eyes went to the mare, who was grazing what little grass there was on the ground. If he returned to the ranch with the horse without Noreen, everyone would be alarmed. He would have to leave the horse somewhere, preferably with food and water.

He thought of Liz. Although the redhead had not been overly welcoming of him, she was his best hope if he wanted to find Noreen.

Mind made up, he got back on the horse and rode to Liz's ranch. He intended to leave her with Liz, and ask her for a ride back to the truck. Her husband was out of town, so he did not worry about intruding.

Once he was at Liz's ranch, he gave Cassopeia to a ranch hand, before heading to the house. He had his hand up to knock when the door opened, revealing Liz.

"It's Noreen, isn't it? That's why you brought Cassopeia here," she said.

Castiel averted his eyes, unsure how to explain Noreen's predicament to Liz, her best friend. Liz pursed her lips, and grabbing hold of his hand, dragged Castiel into her study. She shut the door and stood by the desk.

"What is it? You can tell me," she said, crossing her arms. When Castiel didn't reply, she hazarded a guess, "Does this have something to do with what's happening to the town?"

His head snapped up, meeting Liz's steely gaze. "What do you know?"

"Nothing. Except that a bunch of people who supposedly like each other have been at each other's throats; some killed themselves. There was a murder today."

"Someone died?"

"Lenny, cook at the diner, killed Yvonne. She's - was - a waitress. Sweet girl. A bit of an airhead but she didn't deserve to be hacked to death with a cleaver."

Castiel sat down heavily. From the sound of it, things were spiraling out of control. He didn't know this Yvonne, but the thought he was indirectly responsible for her death nagged at him. The pain he felt from the guilt was almost crushing; fleetingly, he wondered if as an angel he had felt this before. Somehow, he didn't think it was to this level, he was sure.

Liz noticed his distress and felt sorry for him, which was unusual for her. She had instinctively distrusted him; he was some guy who appeared out of nowhere, naked and bleeding with memory loss. The logical thought was that some people had beaten him to a pulp and then left him for dead. Anyone who attracted that sort of attention was usually shady. But typically, Noreen had taken a liking to him. That girl had always been a soft touch when it came to handsome strangers with beautiful blue eyes. Add a sexy gravelly voice, memory loss and an expression that would not be amiss on a bewildered lost puppy, and Noreen might as well move in with the guy.

She sighed, taking a seat next to him. "OK, I'm not your biggest fan. I still think there's something you're hiding, but you obviously care about Noreen and you seem to know what's happening."

Castiel stared into space, digesting all the information. Finally, he asked, "What happened to the cook - to Lenny? Did he hurt anyone else?"

"No. Two guys stepped in and knocked him out."

"Who were they?"

"Some guys. They're not from around here."

"Do you know where they went?"

Liz looked at him in surprise. "Why this sudden interest in a bunch of strangers?"

Castiel took a deep breath. He would probably have to tell Liz the truth now. "What's happening to the town ... it's sort of like a disease."

"And?"

"And it makes people unable to sleep. If they can't sleep, they can't dream. They bring their dreams out here in the real world."

"How does it spread?"

Castiel thought about Mandy's attack on Noreen and what deputy Parker had told him. "I think it's spread through blood and saliva. When someone draws blood, if the other person has any open wounds, the disease is transmitted."

Liz's eyes went to Castiel's arms. She saw some minute scratches on them. Her eyes went back to his face.

"Are you infected?"

He shook his head. "I think I'm immune. Mandy attacked me too, but I wasn't affected like Noreen."

She stifled a gasp. "Noreen is infected?"

Castiel considered lying to her, but decided against it. He nodded. Liz sighed, running her hand through her hair.

"You're worried the guys at the diner are infected, aren't you?" she guessed.

"Yes," he said. "If they're not from here, they may pass what they have to others elsewhere."

"You're gonna look for them?"

He hesitated. He thought about Noreen, lost somewhere without sleep, or any supplies. She had to take priority.

"No, I'm going to look for Noreen. She left the ranch today." He turned to her, his eyes a brilliant blue. "But you can find them for me."

_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_

Dean sat up, grouchy. Try as he might, he could not sleep. The alcohol he had drunk was not helping. On the next bed, Sam turned over, mumbling softly in his sleep. Dean mentally stuck a tongue out at his brother, envying his ability to sleep despite everything he had gone through.

Touching his fingers to his throat, Dean winced. The pain from the scratches were not easing. Instead, they had started to burn. He got up and went to the bathroom.

Turning the lights on, Dean was shocked to see his reflection. He looked pale and haggard; his eyes red-shot, his freckles standing out. And his neck. The scratches stood in stark relief under the harsh florescent light of the bathroom. Dean peered closer. The scratches looked black, unlike anything he had seen before. He thought about the conversation he and Sam had earlier.

The Sandman. Not just a Metallica song or a cheery bebop song in the 50s. He was real and a monster from Purgatory. Though from what he and Sam had found out, this Sandman didn't bring sleep or dreams; he stopped sleep and brought dreams into reality.

After calling Bobby, they had tried to locate the whereabouts of the monster, using a spell their adopted father had given them. It didn't work; fizzling out instead. Something was missing, but they didn't know what.

Dean heard a soft snore and turned his head to his brother's slumbering form. Sam was sleeping soundly, while Dean couldn't. He wondered then if he was one of the Sandman's victims.

_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_

Liz scratched her head, a habit she had everytime she was not sure what to do. After dropping Cas off at the truck, she had worked on tracking the two strangers that he had asked her to. It turned out to be easier than she had thought. She had first checked out the boardinghouse in town, asking if anyone new had checked in. Betty, the woman who ran the boardinghouse, had said no. But she suggested Liz check out the motel outside of town.

Liz noticed the woman's bloodshot eyes and general lethargy. Going on what Cas had told her, she had looked for any scratches or wounds on Betty. The woman had a band-aid on the back of her hand. Liz had thanked her hurriedly and got into her car, worried Betty would snap and attack her, passing on the infection.

She headed to the dingy motel outside of town, famous for the illicit trysts that occured there. On her way there, she noticed more examples of the sickness that Cas told her about; more fights outside bars and in the streets. She fervently hoped Cas would be able to stop whatever was causing this.

Now she stood outside the two strangers' door - information that cost her $40 in total - unsure whether to knock or come back the next day. It was past midnight and the room was in darkness. Then, she heard a shuffling sound and saw a shaft of light through the motel window; one of them had probably gotten up to go to the bathroom. Steeling her nerve, trying not to think about the craziness of the situation, she knocked on their door.

After a few excruciating minutes, the door opened. A very tall and very good-looking man with dark blond hair, freckles, green eyes and a fit muscular body stood in the doorway. Liz stood there in shock. Cas was right to be concerned. The man's eyes were red-rimmed and he had ugly black scratches on his neck.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"I don't know how you guys do things in this town, but if this is a house call, thanks, sweetheart, but I'm not in the mood," said the man finally.

Liz's eyes narrowed. The cheek of him. She wiggled her fingers, showing him her wedding ring. "I'm married, dumbass."

The man was taken aback. Rolling her eyes, she pushed past him and entered the room. Another man, another giant, had been sleeping but woke up when she turned on the lights.

"Wssstflg ..?" he mumbled, confused, his eyes blinking in the sudden light.

She raised her eyebrows at the first man. "Well, at least you're out and proud._"_

His brows knotted together and he opened his mouth, probably to protest. Liz shook her head. "Never mind. I don't care."

Sam blinked at the strange woman. She had made herself at home, sitting in an armchair by the window.

"Uh, hi?" he said.

"What I'm about to tell you is weird. Just bear with me," she said. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "You guys can't leave town. Some stuff has been happening here, and you guys are infected.

"Oh, and I'm Liz. Hi."

The Winchesters stared at the woman, Liz. She was now looking at them expectantly, waiting for a reaction.

"Erm, hi, Liz. I'm Sam Winchester and that's my brother, Dean." Sam waved a hand at Dean's general direction. Dean scowled at the introduction.

"Nice to meet you," she said primly, holding on to her purse like a lifeline. She kept her face blank, ignoring her previous - obviously - wrong assumption.

Sam remembered what she just said. "We're infected?"

Liz nodded. "Yes. Well, he is," she said, pointing to Dean. "You, I don't think so since you were asleep."

Sam's eyes went to Dean, whose scowl had worsened. He had noticed Dean looking more tired than usual, but now he saw how black the scratches on Dean's neck looked, where the cook had scratched him when he tried to strangle Dean. Was it the scratches?

"Hang on, you know what's going on?" asked Sam.

"Yes."

"How?"

"This friend of mine. He figured out people were acting strangely because they weren't sleeping. He also knows how it's being passed."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, both thinking the same thought. _Was there another hunter in town?_

"Does he know the source?" asked Dean, intrigued despite his exhaustion.

Liz shook her head. "He didn't tell me. But I think he does, or at least has an idea."

"Why didn't he tell you?"

"Honestly?" The brothers nodded. Liz made a face, saying, "Probably because it's crazier than what he's already told me."

"Who is this guy?" asked Dean.

"Just a guy I know. We found him about month ago."

Sam sat up straighter. "Found him?"

Liz looked at him, surprised by the sudden urgency in his voice.

"Yeah. We found him just outside of town. He was hurt. My friend Noreen took him in," she said. "Do you know him?"

Sam's eyes went to Dean again. His brother had stiffened when he heard what Liz said.

"We don't know. Can you describe him to us?" asked Sam.

She gazed at them suspiciously. If these two had been the ones to beat Cas up and left him for dead, she wasn't sure if she should tell them.

Sam saw her hesitate and sought to allay her fears. "We're looking for a friend of ours. He went missing about the same time."

The attempt did not work. She remained silent.

Dean took a deep breath. "Dark hair, bright blue eyes, trenchcoat ... that sound like him? Goes by Castiel. Likes to stare at people. Talks like Spock."

"Not really."

The tension went out of the boys, until Liz's next words.

"No, that's not true. There was no trenchcoat and he doesn't remember who he is, but we call him Cas. And he has dark hair and blue eyes."

_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_

Castiel drove back to Liz's ranch, empty-handed. He had not seen a sign of Noreen anywhere. Not that he could see much, in the dark. But he had hoped that maybe he would come across some sign of her. She seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

He stifled a yawn. He had been up for almost 24 hours. He was glad he could barely keep his eyes open; it just confirmed he wasn't susceptible to the thing that was going through the town.

Parking the truck next to Liz's, he climbed up the stairs to the house. He saw another car next to her; a black muscle car, partially hidden in the shadows. He thought it looked familiar but he was too sleepy to bother with it now.

The lights were on. Liz was probably waiting for any news about Noreen.

Once again, the door opened before he could knock. Liz again stood by the door, her expression odd. He studied her, wondering if she had gotten infected, but she seemed fine. She just looked like she was wrestling a bunch of feelings: surprise, disbelief and worry.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded hurriedly, opening the door wide to let him in.

Castiel walked in, his eyes still on Liz, who shut the door immediately after he passed through. He frowned, puzzled.

The sound of a throat clearing brought his attention to two other occupants of the living room. He turned to look at them, his eyes widening with recognition. Two tall men stood in the middle of the room, dwarfing it with their height and size. One, dark-haired with green eyes, was smiling hesitantly at him, while the other, with dark blond hair and green eyes, just stared. His neck had the tale-tell black scratches.

"Dean," said Castiel, feeling a surge of joy.

There was only one way Dean could react at finally locating his best friend and brother-at-arms after over a month. Walking over to the former angel, Dean clenched his fist into a ball and punched Castiel in the jaw as hard as he could.


	7. Episode Seven

**NOTE: Thanks again to everyone who has written a review and subscribed to the story. I'd especially like to thank the anonymous reviewer for showing extreme courage and posting an anti-Cas rant. Although the review doesn't really have any suggestions to improve, it was nevertheless very brave of the person to remain nameless.  
><strong>

This website is a bit temperamental, so sometimes scene dividers get lost. I try to fix it, but it doesn't change, so I hope you guys will understand when a scene breaks off and when a new one starts. I hope you are enjoying the ride.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Supernatural, and I thank Kripke and co. for creating a great, and inspiring universe and series.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>

"Enough! I don't care what you think. I've tried to make you understand. You won't listen. So let me make this simple. _Please_, go home and let me stop Raphael. I won't ask again," warned Castiel.

"The problem with you, Dean, is that you do not listen. You could have prevented this if you had listened to your friend," said Death.

"Dude, you have to let it go. I'm fine, Cas fixed me," said Sam.

"What's happening to the town ... it's sort of like a disease," said Castiel to Liz.

Walking over to the former angel, Dean clenched his fist into a ball and punched Castiel in the jaw as hard as he could.

**NOW**

A vase toppled off its stand and broke into several pieces as Castiel staggered back from Dean's punch. It was a note-worthy blow, hard enough to make Mohammad Ali shed a tear of nostalgia. It was a miracle that Castiel still remained standing, but standing he was while Dean cursed and nursed his hand.

Castiel put his hand to his mouth; there was blood. Dean stared at him and the blood flowing from his old friend's split lip. It was the final proof that the angel was now human.

Liz stepped forward. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What was that all about? I thought you guys said you were friends," she snapped.

Sam gave her a hesitant smile. "Erm, yeah. We are but we're kinda pissed off at him at the moment; my brother more than me."

She raised an eyebrow, not really caring. God knows she knew what guys were like; she had grown up as the only girl in a family of boys.

"Whatever." She turned to Cas. "You OK?"

Castiel nodded, his wary eyes on Dean. He had unconsciously adopted a fighting stance, ready to react against any oncoming assault. Dean was impressed; he had forgotten that Cas was a warrior first and foremost.

At the sight of the Winchesters, Castiel got more glimpses of his past with them and Bobby. He knew he had not gotten the full picture yet, but from what he could remember, their relationship and friendship with each other were dysfunctional at best. They had been family, willing to die for each other but not to talk or listen to each other; taking each other for granted. He remembered feeling despair and alone at the end.

Liz strode to the door and opened it, telling the two heavy-weight championship contenders, "Take it outside. I'm not letting you guys screw up my house."

"I'll just wait here with Liz," volunteered Sam.

Dean glared at his brother but went through the door. Castiel made a move to follow Dean, but hesitated when he came abreast of the taller Winchester. Not looking directly at him, he told Sam, "I'm sorry I hurt you, Sam. There is no excuse."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. He never thought he would hear those words from Cas. Unsure what to say, he considered hugging the former angel, but settled on awkwardly patting Cas on his back.

"Thanks, Cas. I'm sorry too."

Castiel looked confused. He knew he had hurt Sam, based on what Meg had told him as well as some flashes of memory it brought, but what was the thing that Sam was sorry for? He opened his mouth to ask Sam, but then he heard Dean's bossy and angry voice from outside.

"Are you girls done sharing make-up tips or are you coming out?"

Sam's eyes went to the door. He smiled, turning to Cas. "Good luck."

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Dean took off his jacket, any rings he had on and his vanity dog tags. He had gone to the clearing next to the house; it was obviously the place Liz would hold outdoor parties. For his purposes, the area suit him just fine. It was still very dark although it was almost dawn; nevertheless, Dean had enough light to see with, thanks to the lights from the house.

Castiel stepped into the clearing, looking intently at Dean with those blue eyes. Dean felt a heaviness in his chest; that gaze was so typically Cas. His old friend, the one who had offered him a comforting hand after he had gone to the past and learned how and why he and his brother were cursed to save the world. Things had been so clear-cut at that moment; he knew he could always depend on Cas to be there for him.

But what about him being there for Cas? The traitorous thought came to him.

Death had told him that if he had listened, he could have prevented what happened to Cas. He was as much at fault as his friend was. And Cas had hurt Sam to delay Dean, which worked. But secretly, he wondered if Cas took down the wall to hurt him more, rather than Sam. Cas's promise to "fix" Sam after everything was over implied he knew breaking down the wall would not kill his brother. So was it to delay Dean or to hurt him? And did that mean Cas wanted Sam's soul left in Hell from the very beginning? But then, why would he even tell Dean that Sam was soulless?

Dean sighed. He was thinking about it too much, and that wasn't a smart move considering the state he was in. But it fueled his anger.

"Dean, listen to me," said Cas.

Dean's eyes narrowed at those words, uttered in that tone. It reminded him too much of their past. He just wanted his anger and his fists to do the talking, take over for him. He was too tired to do anything else.

"You're sick," added his former best friend.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. You got infected when the cook attacked you."

"I don't care," said Dean and swung at Cas. The former angel ducked easily, side-stepping the bigger man, his leg flashing out to strike Dean in the kneecap. Dean stumbled. _The bastard, _he thought. The two opponents circled each other warily, looking for an opening.

"You can't sleep and it's making you tired. If we don't stop this thing, you will go insane," continued Cas.

"I told you I don't care!"

Dean rushed the other man, who again moved aside. This time, he brought down his elbow against Dean's exposed back. Dean grunted at the sharp pain. Before Cas could move away, Dean spread his arms and grabbed the other man around the middle as he fell. The two crashed into the dirt.

Seizing his advantage, Dean wrapped his hand around Cas's neck, using his body to keep his former brother on the ground. With the other hand, Dean punched Cas in the jaw.

"You killed Elie! You hurt Bobby! You lied to me! You hurt Sam! How could you do that? How could you hurt my brother?" he yelled, his fist landing a blow with each sentence. Bright blue eyes stared back at him, full with apology and pain. Blood trickled freely from Cas's mouth.

"I don't know! I don't remember!" Cas choked out the words.

Castiel put his hand against Dean's face, his fingers digging into the flesh, straining to move him. With his other hand, he grabbed the hand holding him down, struggling to ease the strangle-hold the hunter had on him. It didn't work. Gasping, he then jabbed into Dean's ribs, hard. The hunter double up in pain, his grip on Castiel loosening. It was the outlet he needed. He swung his own fist, palm open. It connected with Dean and succeeded in pushing him off. For good measure, he landed a few punches in, making sure the hunter stayed down.

Shakily, Castiel got to his feet, moving away from the furious Winchester. Breathing heavily and wiping the blood from his mouth, he looked at Dean, who was clutching his side and glaring murderously at him. The hunter's face was starting to swell from the blows he had gotten in. Touching his own face, he could feel the bruises.

"I'm sorry for what I did. But from what I heard, I had a damn good reason to do it," he rasped out. Swallowing, he rubbed his throat; it felt raw and painful.

"And what is that?"

"I was trying to save the world, you ass!"

"Not good enough. You don't hurt your friends to do that," growled Dean, panting. Cas was right, although he'd be damned before he admitted it. The infection and the lack of sleep were making him slow and tired. He stayed on the ground, keeping his eyes on his old friend. Cas looked at him sorrowfully.

"You mean, don't hurt your brother to save everyone else," he said quietly.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

"So what's the deal between those two?" asked Liz, handing Sam a cup of tea. They had moved to the kitchen while Cas and Dean beat each other up. Women talked out their issues with words, men did it with their fists, while couples did it with angry sex.

"Uh ... it's kinda complicated."

"Try me."

"Well, Cas saved Dean from ... uh ... something really, really bad. You could even say it was Hell," he said haltingly. "Anyway, they became friends. And we had to ... uh ... do something to help a bunch of people ... and Cas helped us do it. He saved me from a bad place ... but then he had a problem, a big one ... and he didn't come to us. Instead, he tried to fix it on his own. And he did, I guess. But the way he did it ... he hurt a bunch of people, including me, and put a lot of people in danger, so that's why Dean is angry.

"Does that make any sense?"

"I lost you at 'Cas saved Dean,'" said Liz. She shook her head. "Never mind. I probably don't wanna know."

She sipped her tea and added, "But it sounds like you guys have gone through a lot together. Would be a shame to forget all that just to hold on to a grudge."

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Dean glared at Cas. The former angel had turned away after saying those words, ready to leave.

"So what? You saved the world and now you got your reward? You got a soul and we get to clean up your mess?"

Castiel stiffened. He turned back to face Dean, his blue eyes ablaze, his face enraged.

"You think getting a soul is a reward?" he yelled, his fists clenched.

"It is my punishment. I feel ... EVERYTHING now. Everything is too strong, too deep, too painful. So don't say I escaped unscathed."

Dean stared at Cas in shock. He had never considered Cas getting a soul as a punishment. But it fit. Having a soul fit. As an angel and then God, he had seen souls as a commodity, an asset to be used. Although Cas had been different from his kin, more compassionate and willing to follow his own conscience - more _human_, he still suffered from the same failings as his brethren, believing he was a superior being.

How the mighty have fallen.

Looking at the angry human man standing over him, he saw for the first time how deeply Cas felt, so different from before. He had always thought his old friend was rather a stick in the mud. Even when he was angry or cold, Cas had always exuded a calmness, a detachment.

But this Cas was a new entity. The closest he could remember Cas getting this angry was when Dean was prepared to give in to Michael, the archangel. To say yes to him and to save half the planet. Cas had taken him to an alley and beaten him to a pulp, angry that Dean had been so ready to give up. He had saved Dean from himself that day.

"I may not remember everything, but what I have learned ... I wanted to save the world, I wanted to save all of you," said Castiel. "I did what I had to, but now I have to live with the repercussions; that I am responsible for what is happening here - to innocent people, like Noreen. And now you."

Sighing, he continued in an even, monotonous voice, "I don't expect you to understand. Your empathy seems to extend only to your brother and Bobby."

Dean looked away. Cas's words had touched a nerve. He had never realized what a dick he had become, how unyielding. He was always so sure he was right, never fully seeing and appreciating Cas for who he was, only for what he was. Cas had been wrong, but Dean was not blameless, either. If he had learned from his time with Sam; if he had kept on guiding Cas on freedom; if he had _listened_ ...

"Listen, Cas," he said haltingly. "I'm sorry I hit you - not that you let me off easy. But ... when you had your problem with Raphael, I just ... I wished you had come to me first. I probably couldn't have helped much, but we were family once, and we don't let family suffer alone. And –" He let out a deep breath. "- I should have sought you out sooner."

Castiel's eyes went to Dean. "Thank you."

Dean smiled bitterly. He got to his feet, wincing slightly from the pain in his side. "I can't say this changes anything or that I even I trust you. I mean, I'm glad you're alive but ..."

"I know," said Castiel, giving a small smile.

The hunter averted his eyes, unable to meet Cas's eyes. They stood there awkwardly for a minute, allowing the uneasy truce to settle.

"We'll just do this job," said Dean. "Right now, we're after the same thing. We gotta find your girlfriend and stop whatever's causing the town to go cuckoo for cocoa puffs."

Castiel frowned, confused. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Never mind." For some reason, he felt inordinately cheerful that the former angel still didn't get it.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

The two limped into the kitchen, looking none the worse for wear. Sam was relieved they could still walk at least, although they were bruised and bloody. One of Dean's eyes had swollen shut, while Cas's face was a mish-mash of cuts. Of the two, Dean seemed the most hurt; primarily because he was exhausted, the scratches showing up as black ugly vines against his pallid skin.

Belatedly, Sam remembered Dean had been infected.

"You guys OK?" asked Liz, getting up.

"I'm fine. But Dean needs help. I ... uh ... I think I broke his rib," answered Cas. He stood by the door, letting Dean sit down in the chair next to Sam, wincing as he did so. From what Sam could see, an uneasy alliance had sprung up between Dean and Cas. Maybe there could never be anything more than that after everything that had happened.

"I broke his nose. He's not exactly a pretty-boy angel anymore," retorted Dean, his pride wounded.

"Liz told us how the disease is transmitted and since you're human now ..." said Sam, looking at Cas's bloody wounds.

"I'm immune to it, among other things," he replied, remembering Meg's useless attempts to attack him.

Dean turned his head around to look at him. "You still have some angel juice in your system?"

Castiel shrugged.

"Angel? Human? Am I missing something here?" interrupted Liz, her eyes going to the three of them.

Grimacing, Dean kicked a chair out for Liz. "I think you should sit down for this."


	8. Episode Eight

**NOTE:** Thanks again to everyone who has written a review and subscribed to the story. I have had disabled my anonymous reviews function to prevent a new war starting, which is unfortunate, but 's review function is not the forum to air one's dislike of characters.

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Supernatural, and Kripke and Co. are welcome to this tale and all elements introduced here.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>

Castiel took three books out; _Der Sandmann_ by E.T.A. Hoffman, a book on Greek myths and a book of poems.

"No, I'm going to look for Noreen. She left the ranch today," said Castiel.

"You guys can't leave town. Some stuff has been happening here, and you guys are infected," Liz told Sam and Dean.

"We'll just do this job," said Dean. "Right now, we're after the same thing. We gotta find your girlfriend and stop whatever's causing the town to go cuckoo for cocoa puffs."

**NOW**

Liz cracked the eggs into a bowl, adding some milk into the mixture. She started whisking, the mundane act leaving her free to contemplate what she had learned a few hours ago.

They, mostly Sam and Dean, told her about their lives and their "job," that of hunting monsters, demons and other supernatural things with murder and mayhem on their minds. A few years ago, they found out they were intricately mixed up in bringing about the Apocalypse and finishing it, by serving as the human vessels of archangels Lucifer and Michael. Cas had come into their lives as the angel who saved Dean from Hell and later rebelled against Heaven, which had been colluding with Hell to get the Apocalypse over and done with.

They succeeded in preventing the big prizefight, but Sam had to sacrifice himself by jumping into the cage that had imprisoned Lucifer for eons, with Michael, in the guise of the Winchesters' half-brother Adam. Cas had gone into Hell and brought Sam out, but was unable to retrieve his soul or Adam.

Just as Liz was going to ask where God was in all this, Sam told her that God had chosen not to intervene, but helped by resurrecting Cas twice when he died helping the Winchesters prevent the Apocalypse. Liz did not know what to make of the information; she had never considered herself religious, but she had always felt comforted by the thought of God watching over them. Now, the three were telling her that they were truly alone in the universe.

"So no one's running the Big House?"

The brothers glanced at Cas. "Well, someone tried but it sort of went wahooni-shaped," said Dean after a moment of awkward silence.

Liz looked at them in confusion. "Who?"

"Me," said Cas.

God, Satan and a man were in her kitchen. She would have laughed at the thought but the serious and earnest expressions on their faces stopped her.

After that stunning revelation, they had continued telling her of Cas's attempt to run Heaven, and prevent another angel from going back to the script and starting another Apocalypse. To defeat his stronger rival, he needed to upgrade and fast. He decided to go after Purgatory, setting the three, plus some guy called Bobby, at odds with each other.

Once they were done, she had gotten up and raided her husband's stash of scotch, giving all of them a glass. They had accepted the drink, trying to gauge her response.

She had ignored their looks and told them to get some sleep. Knowing Dean was not able to sleep, she had given him the TV and cable remotes, telling him to "knock himself out."

Liz supposed she believed them. She could have believed that the Winchesters had concocted some elaborate story for some nefarious reason, but what convinced her was the fact that Cas, who was part of their tale, had not been with them for over a month. And like it or not, she had gotten to know Cas, mostly at the behest of Noreen, who was besotted by the blue-eyed man. He seemed sincere, although she had always detected a hint of menace under the calm exterior.

Heating up a pan, she poured the egg mixture into it.

Attracted by the smell, Dean walked into the kitchen and took a seat. He looked even worse than last night. The scratches on his neck had deepened; he was pale with dark circles under his eyes, which were bloodshot. The beating Cas gave him last night did not help his appearance, either.

"Morning," he grunted.

"Morning," responded Liz. "How are you?"

Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Like I've gone toe-to-toe with Alexis Drazen and Paul Bernardo together."

He watched her scoop the scrambled eggs onto plates, and pour out coffee into a mug. She handed a plate and the coffee to him. Smiling his thanks, he started eating while Liz watched.

"So what are you guys up to today?"

Dean shrugged. "Probably look for your friend. Noreen, right?"

Liz nodded, unable to keep the worried expression off her face. "Do you have any ideas?"

"We think we know who's, or what's, doing this. But we're a bit stumped on how to find him - it." He looked at Liz. "How are you holding up? Can't be easy finding out what you did last night."

"I'll live." She hesitated before asking the next question, but she wanted to know. "Do you think Noreen is still alive?"

He paused, the fork halfway to his mouth. "I dunno. Cas said she went missing yesterday."

"Oh yeah. Cas."

He looked at her intently. "I don't blame you for being angry with him."

She shook her head. "I'm not. I know he feels responsible, but it sounded like there was nothing else he could have done. It's either another Apocalypse or this. And shit happens to good people all the time."

"That's mighty kind of you. But what he did ... he let out a bunch of dangerous monsters here. He's put your friend and you in danger."

"I know. But from what you told me, some of those things were already here anyway." She put her hand up, before the hunter could interrupt her. "Don't get me wrong. I love Noreen, and I would never want anything bad to happen to her. But if it's a choice between half the world dying and a few here and there, it's a no-brainer."

Dean put his fork down, surprised by her answer. "I never would have pegged you as a Cas girl. What you just said ... that's kinda cold."

"It is," she agreed calmly. "But it's common sense."

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

When Sam and Castiel woke up and went downstairs, Dean was already on the phone with Bobby. The high-school dropout had had time to think about what Liza had said. Here was a woman who was a pawn in the games he, his brother, Cas and Bobby played, and she bore no malice towards them or blamed them. Instead, she had accepted their choices and the reasons for them. He wondered again about this tendency he had for assuming responsibility for the world, thinking that he knew best for everyone. They were all guilty of this - he, Sam, Cas and Bobby.

Bobby picked up the phone after a few rings. He was glad but not overjoyed they had found Cas, though he did seem satisfied when Dean told the veteran hunter that he had punched their former friend.

"I'm glad you beat him up," said the veteran hunter. Dean didn't bother saying Cas had beaten him up as badly in return. A man had his pride after all.

"Not still holding a grudge, are you?"

"He killed Elie. I know she was a monster and she killed Lovecraft, but she ..." Bobby's voice trailed into silence. Dean thought about every single woman his father figure had had a relationship with, those that he knew of anyway. There weren't many and all were dead. _Poor bastard_, he thought.

"Anyway, listen. We tried that locator spell you gave us but it didn't work."

"That's weird. It should have worked as long as you have the name. You sure it's the Sandman?"

"Unless there's something else that controls sleep, yeah, we're sure."

Sam walked into the living room, taking a seat on the couch and looking enquiringly at Dean. Dean mouthed the word, 'Bobby.' His brother nodded.

"I'll do some more research, maybe get the psychic to do a second act." He paused, before continuing, "As much as I hate to say this, but you should ask Cas. He was all cozy with those souls for a bit. He probably knows more about them than anyone else on Earth."

"He doesn't remember everything."

"Well, get him to remember," snapped Bobby.

"Gotcha," said Dean. He wondered if he should tell his adopted father the next bit of information.

Bobby sensed his hesitancy and said,"What is it? Spit it out."

"Cas's girlfriend is missing."

"That son of a bitch got a soul AND a girlfriend? Bastard works fast."

"He _has_ been gone for over a month, Bobby. She took him in and I guess he likes her."

"So he set up house with a girl? Well, that answers _that _question," said Bobby sarcastically.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind."

Dean looked at the receiver suspiciously.

"What's her name?" continued Bobby. "Maybe I can ask the psychic to track her down too."

Dean told him. He hung up and turned to his brother.

"What did he say?" asked Sam.

"He's getting a psychic to help us." Dean looked around. "Where's Cas?"

"In the kitchen, talking to Liz. Why?"

"Bobby thinks we should ask Cas about the Sandman."

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

The woman opened her eyes to see only shadows around her. She was in a cave, west of the town. No one knew about the caves, except for her and another. They had found the cave network when they explored the hillside as kids. The locals knew there were openings, but they did not know that this particular cave was here; natural rock growth and trees had grown in front of the crevice that led to the cave, hiding it from general view.

The two had spent many moments in the cave, making this their clubhouse. All over the cave, there were signs of their childhood; a doll, a bedraggled teddy bear, a string of beads, an errant plastic comb. She looked at the remnants of their happy childhood, as if she did not recognize them.

The woman smiled. She enjoyed the memories, especially the one involving a blue-eyed man.

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Liz and Castiel were talking about Noreen while they ate their breakfast. Liz had asked Cas if he knew Noreenhad feelings for him. He had flushed and said he suspected so. He told her about the kiss but assured her that nothing happened. Liz felt like smacking Cas on the back of the head.

They broke off when Sam and Dean entered the kitchen.

"Cas, can we talk to you for a second?" asked Sam, motioning his head towards the living room.

Liz took the hint and stood up. "Use the study. It's more private. Cas will show you the way."

Castiel nodded and headed to the study, followed closely by the Winchesters. Once in the room, he looked enquiringly at Sam and Dean. They both looked uncomfortable, unsure how to act with their uneasy alliance.

"What do you need?" asked Castiel.

The brothers glanced at each other, remembering other, happier times that began with that question, when they were all friends, when they were assured of each other's trust and loyalties.

"Bobby thinks we should talk to you," said Dean. He had gone to the desk, half-sitting on it. He was exhausted but tried hard to keep going.

"About?"

"We think the thing that's affecting the town is the Sandman," said Sam.

"I know," said Castiel.

"What, you know?" asked Dean. The former angel's eyes went to the hunter.

"Yes."

"You know how to find him?"

"No."

Sam sighed in frustration, while Dean swore under his breath. They felt stuck. Until they heard Cas's next words.

"The thing you are seeking isn't just the Sandman. It is something much older."

Sam frowned. "Meaning?"

"The Sandman is his manifestation for this time, this place, but his influence is beyond that. Folklore and folk tales are a bastardization from the actual origin. Just because times have changed, the story hasn't."

Sam and Dean looked at Castiel, perplexed. Castiel sighed.

"Stories continue when people believe in something. People believe because there is truth in it. The story of a being that controls sleep and dreams is very old. People die, time goes on and the name changes. But always, the basic tale remains the same."

"Are you saying we're looking for a pagan god? Like Morpheus?" asked Sam.

"Morpheus is similar to him," acknowledged Castiel.

"What? The Matrix guy?" chimed in Dean.

Castiel looked at the green-eyed hunter in frustration. "I'm human now but I still don't get your reference."

"Ignore him," said Sam to Cas, rolling his eyes. He frowned, thinking over Cas's words.. "So you're saying it's not Morpheus or the Sandman. What's left?"

"The basis for them. An ancient being who can control sleep and dreams. I doubt anyone knows his true name now."

_So that's why the locator spell didn't work,_ thought Sam. He looked at Cas with new respect. "How do you know this? I thought you don't remember."

Castiel shrugged. "I remember bits and pieces. And there is a library in town. The rest ... I just know."

"So what god is this? It's not that septic tank god, is it?" Dean grinned at his own joke. Cas gave him a blank look, while Sam just stared.

"Give it up, dude. It wasn't funny the first time and it's not funny now," said his brother.

Dean made a face.

"It could be an æglæca," said Castiel.

"Erm, OK. Æglæca?" asked Sam.

"They're not pagan gods, but actual monsters. They were sometimes worshiped as gods, though."

"Not exactly your dad, are they?" Dean couldn't resist the jibe.

Castiel looked away, his face a mystery. Dean felt instant regret for reminding the former angel of his lost heritage, even though he had been the one to cause his own downfall.

"Yes," said the new human, quietly. "They were thrown into Purgatory."

Sam and Dean went silent, digesting the information. If what Cas was telling them was true, then they were dealing with a new type of monster.

"Not for anything, Cas, but didn't you think about this before you drove a sledgehammer through Monstropolis?" asked Dean resentfully. Castiel stiffened.

"I did what I had to do," he said, his voice low with barely-controlled anger. "Billions would have died in an instant - more than an æglæca can ever kill - if Raphael had won, so save it."

He and Dean stood in silence, glaring at each other. Sam raised his eyebrows and whistled softly under his breath. This was getting tricky; Sam didn't relish being a referee for the two forever.

Then something struck him.

"Wait a minute, you said this thing controls sleep _and dreams_?" he asked Cas.

Castiel glanced at him, curious. "Yes."

Sam grinned. "I think we have dream root in the trunk of the car."

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

What Castiel told Sam and Dean about folktales and lore was something that many do not realize told the truth of the world. Folklore and folktales all have their origins. One such folklore is tied up to the Winter Solstice, the longest night in the year and became a symbol of all mystical powers associated with that time of the day, celebrated among pagans. But even as pagans danced around uneven stones in their birthday suits, they understood the importance of night. To a people for which night meant hidden dangers and unseen death, they had prayed to anything that would listen to survive the night. And something answered that prayer. Man gave authority to this entity, allowing this being the power over their sleep and dreams.

As times changed, the stories evolved until finally they became folktales and something to tell children when they go to sleep.

Just because the stories of the Sandman have gotten fluffy and rated for General Audience over the years, it didn't mean the teeth and danger that first haunted people's ancestors were gone. And the original being in the tales was loose in the world again, no longer caring to hide and it is _pissed._

Remember some of _your_ nightmares?

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Sam prepared the dream potion, but that was only the start of the trouble. He and Dean could not agree on who should go into dreamland; Dean wanting to go because he did not want Sam to face a monster alone. Sam reminded Dean could not sleep and therefore could not dream. He had a point, but Dean refused to back down. Castiel was getting a headache from the back and forth.

"Enough!" he roared, his head throbbing. "I'll go." Did the brothers argue this much when he was their guardian angel? He wasn't sure.

The Winchesters stared at him, noticing how the former angel rubbed his temples.

"Cas, you sure? It may not work," said Sam.

"You told me one of my powers as an angel was to navigate dreams. I'm more qualified than either of you in that respect."

Sam nodded; couched in those terms, Cas was right. Dean kept quiet, looking at Cas with suspicion and maybe a little concern. He wasn't sure if he wanted Cas going under, either. He did not bother examining his reasons.

"Keep it short. Make sure you take notes," ordered Dean finally.

Castiel inclined his head in assent, taking the potion. Just as he lay back on the couch, Dean added something else.

"Don't forget it's a dream. We'll be here, in case ... just in case."


	9. Episode Nine

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Supernatural and I'm glad I don't.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>

"The demon I could've handled, but when the angel stepped in, I - I told him, Bobby," said Ellie.

"Phoenix rising from the ashes, sound familiar?" asked Bobby.

"Look. If we don't get a shot off, you two better," said Dean, giving Castiel and Bobby a phoenix ash-bullet each.

"Liz told us how the disease is transmitted and since you're human now ..." said Sam, looking at Cas's bloody wounds.

"I'm immune to it, among other things," replied Castiel.

**NOW**

Castiel was in a garden; it was too bright and colorful to be real. The green in the grass and the trees were surreal, the pink and purple flowers dotting the landscape looking like vivid blobs of paint. There was a kite, hanging suspended in the air. Castiel recognized the place; he had dreamed of this a few times since he became human. He knew it was where he used to live, but it was not his home.

"Castiel?" He heard a female voice behind him. He turned and saw a woman with dirty blonde hair, wearing a suit.

"Rachel," he said.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. The woman started to glow; light coming from her chest. She looked down at her chest, then back at him, her eyes accusing him. "Look at what you're turning into."

She disappeared.

"I'm sorry," he called out, running to where she had been standing. As he ran, the colors in the garden started to dissolve like paint, pooling together and turning darker, more dismal. He turned around and saw Sam, Dean, Bobby ... and _him, _in a kitchen at Bobby Singer's home. But _he_ was invisible, listening to the older hunter talking.

"... that means we are dealing with a Superman who's gone dark side," said Bobby.

Castiel saw his other self staring sadly at the three men. Curiously, he examined his former self: he was dressed in a tan trenchcoat and a suit with blue tie. The outfit looked familiar. He moved closer to listen to the conversation. Dean looked troubled while his doppelganger looked guilty.

He heard a _clang, clang, clang_ starting, low at first but incessant enough to disrupt his curiosity. Bobby and Sam went back to the study where they had left a red-haired demon tied up in a chair, while Dean looked after them with a worried expression.

_Clang, clang, clang_. The noise was getting louder. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Castiel followed the sound.

A light flared. "Hello, brother," said Lucifer, speaking from inside a cage.

"You are not taking Sam Winchester. I will not let you," he heard himself saying.

"You are wrong. I already have him," answered the Devil. His face turned to that of Sam's. Castiel could see the real Sam shrieking in agony, in the cage. He reached his hand in to pull Sam out, but Lucifer grabbed the younger Winchester at the last minute. Sam screamed ...

... as Castiel took his hand out of his gut. "It's his soul. It's gone," he told Dean. The hunter stared at him. His world seemed to dim, the walls and windows disappearing. The only source of light was a streetlight above them. Dean smiled at him and put a fond hand on his shoulder.

"Don't ever change," he said. Castiel smiled back, the smile faltering when he saw the green eyes lose their warmth and turn cold. The sun shone. They were in an alley.

"I wish it hadn't come to this," said Castiel sorrowfully. "Well rest assured, when this is all over, I will save Sam, but only if you stand down." He reappeared behind Sam and touched him on the temple. Sam collapsed to the floor.

Castiel stood over the fallen form of his brother, his hand still holding the angel sword. Light blue eyes snapped open. "Cas, is saving the world worth losing yourself?" asked Balthazar sadly. Castiel backed away from him, shocked. A sharp pain in his chest stopped him. Looking down, he saw the tip of an angel sword poking through his shirt. Sam had stabbed him. But he didn't die.

"I am your new God, a better one," he said.

Sam, Dean and Bobby gaped at him. They feared him - his human family feared him. Despair filled him. A woman's laughter sounded.

He turned away from the fear and condemnation in their eyes and saw he was in his room near the stables, the warm smell of horses filling his nostrils. Noreen stood smiling, reaching out to him. He lowered his head to kiss her. She started laughing.

Confused, he raised his head. He was now in a room, filled with decapitated bodies, various pointy and sharp implements hanging from the walls. The laughter continued, coming from a blonde woman lying on an operating table, straps binding her.

It was Ellie Visyak, the monster from Purgatory, Castiel's and Crowley's last chance at finding the place. The demon had used silver, iron and various other things, including fire to torture her for information, but she was tough, mocking his feeble attempts.

"Let me try," said Castiel, stepping forward. His hand was clenched around something small and hard.

Ellie turned to the angel, fear on her face.

Then suddenly, she smiled. She got off the table and walked to him, her shadow growing and encompassing the room as she neared him. They were in a cave.

"What took you so long, angel?"

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Sam sat next to Cas's prone body, checking on the movement of his eyes under the closed lids.

"He's dreaming," he said, satisfied. Hearing no response from his brother, he turned to Dean, who was now sitting in the chair behind the desk. He was staring into space, his eyes fixated on some photos of Liz'a family and friends on the wall.

"You OK?"

Dean started, his eyes glazed. With some effort, he nodded. He glanced at Cas and then back at Sam.

"You know this was how it was when Cas broke your wall?"

Sam looked at him enquiringly.

"You were out of it. Bobby and I had to bring you to the Panic Room, but there was nothing we could do."

"I know, Dean. I woke up."

"No, you don't get it. I saw you lying in the cot. You were suffering. I didn't know if you were going to live or die. I was so angry at Cas. He broke your wall; he hurt you."

"He fixed me."

Dean shook his head. "Dun't matter. He chose to break it and put you in danger."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I know you forgave him. I know you wanted all of your memories. I fucking as hell know that Death blames me for not listening and causing the shitstorm. But Cas still hurt you. I don't know how I can get past that."

Sam's eyes went to the slumbering from of their former angel and friend, thinking over what Dean had said. Slowly, he said, "We've hurt each other many times in the past, Dean. Hell, I've done a lot of the things he did. It's just the way it is. But we worked it through.

"I'm not saying it's easy. But we should still try."

Dean studied his brother. "How do you do it, Sammy? He hurt you and you don't even care."

Sam flushed. "Trust me, I care. It's just that - Dean, I tried to kill him. That's not something I ever thought I could do."

"Yeah, well, you were messed up."

Sam shook his head, his face determined. "No, that's not it. I saw him as a threat; I didn't even think." He sighed, looking at his hands. "Maybe that cancelled out what he did. I don't know. But he was our friend for a long time. I just have to believe that it wasn't for nothing."

Dean lowered his eyes, going to Cas, still deep in dreamland. He remembered how the former angel stayed with them during the first Apocalypse, losing his powers and becoming human. He remembered the alternate future Zachariah showed him, a future where Sam was Lucifer and Cas was a sex-crazed hippie stoner who never left his side, even when it meant going to his death.

"I dunno, Sammy. I sure as hell hope you're right."

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Swearing under his breath, Bobby Singer parked his truck outside the dusty ranch house. He had been driving for hours and he was tired and crankier than ever. The phone call from Dean didn't make sense, but the veteran hunter understood urgency when he heard it.

The most disturbing thing he heard was that Dean was sick with some monster insomniac virus. That was the only reason he was willing to face that ex-halo.

He knew Cas had got him and Sam out of the house at the end. Fine, the feather-butt had stopped Apocalypse, the Sequel, but he had tortured Ellie to do it. Their affair had not lasted - it was a meeting of two lonely souls - but he had liked her. A lot.

Sam was waiting for him, standing on top of the stairs. They hugged.

"Hey, Bobby."

"How's Dean?"

"Not good. He's exhausted, but he keeps pushing himself."

"Can't be helped. He can't sleep so what else can he do?"

"I know. It's just that ... Dean hasn't been that great about taking care of himself. This might actually push him over the edge."

Bobby patted him on the shoulder. He understood.

"Where's the feather-brain?"

Sam frowned. "If you mean Cas, he's inside with Dean."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Typical." He started towards the door, but Sam stopped him.

"Erm, Bobby. Are you gonna be OK with Cas ... you know ... with what he did to Ellie?"

"I'll get over it," he said roughly.

Nodding a bit worriedly, Sam led Bobby to the study, where Dean was sitting on the couch, a fruity soothing face mask over his face. A faint smell of citrus wafted from him. Cas was sitting across from him, a thoughtful look on his face. He looked like he was wrestling with something. Based on what Dean had told him over the phone, Cas now remembered everything that had happened to them this past year. He stood up when he saw Bobby.

Bobby was surprised to see the former angel dressed in jeans and a shirt. Setting down his satchel, he stared at the former angel. He was satisfied to note Cas sporting some bruises.

"At least your fashion sense improved when you got a soul," he said as a greeting. It was the closest to a truce that the grizzled old hunter could offer.

Cas looked down at his clothes and smiled wryly. "Yes, I guess it did."

They stood in silence, looking at each other awkwardly. The tension was thick; an angel blade would have had a hard time cutting through it.

A clatter of porcelain broke it. Sam turned to see Liz walking in with a tray.

"I thought you guys could use something," she said, setting the tray down. She turned to Bobby, holding out her hand. "Hi, I'm Liz. This is my house."

He took it. "Bobby Singer."

"Nice to meet you." She looked at the four of them. "He knows yet?" she asked, inclining her head towards Bobby.

"Uh, no. We were just about to tell him," said Sam.

"Tell me what?"

Liz turned to Bobby. "You ex-girlfriend apparently poisoned my town. What are you planning to do about it?"

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

"Ellie's alive?" said Bobby, sitting down next to Dean in disbelief. He had already said it twice.

Sam looked at Cas in appeal. The former angel grimaced.

"Yes. When I ... uh ... tortured her, I used phoenix ash. She ... rose from the ashes."

"She told you this in a dream?"

Cas nodded.

"And she has a grudge against us. Why?" asked Bobby resentfully. "You're the one who killed her."

Shame-faced, Cas looked away. "She blames you for leading me to her."

Bobby scowled. "At least that explains the psychic."

"What do you mean, Bobby?" asked Sam.

"She told me to beware old lovers. I thought she was putting on an act; trying to do that Madame Zelda stuff that impresses the Hannah Montanas who see her." He sighed, rubbing his chin. "Other than Elie wanting to tear us a new one, is there anything else?"

Cas opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided to go for the short answer. "No."

"She said she was an æglæca. Did you know that when you slept with her?" mumbled Dean tiredly from the couch. In his condition, Dean had fumbled the pronunciation so what came out sounded like "algae."

"A what?"

"He meant æglæca, a monster from medieval times. They were worshiped as symbols of everything, from fertility to nature," offered Cas.

"Thanks, Einstein," said Bobby sarcastically.

"Have you heard of them before?" asked Sam.

Bobby shook his head ruefully, taking some books out from his bag. "Think you'll have to go with Cas on this one. I did a search on them when you called; it's all kinda murky."

"These æglæca ... Æglæcas? Æglæci? What is the plural for them?" asked Dean. He was glad he finally accepted Liz's offer of a soothing face mask. He wasn't sure if it worked, but it was pleasant. His eyes didn't feel as gritty. He did look like a fruitcake, however.

Bobby shrugged. "Don't look at me. Ask him," he said, pointing to Cas. "He's the grammar technician."

Cas gave the older hunter a rude look. "It doesn't matter. The infection is preventing the people in town from sleeping and they are acting out their dreams. It may start off small but they will turn violent. Some already have."

With those words, everyone's eyes went to Dean.

"What? Now everybody's worried I'm gonna go postal on everyone's ass?" he asked indignantly.

"You do have issues, Dean," said Sam.

Dean rolled his eyes. _Damn Sam and his issues. Freaking psychologist. This is what college education does to you._

"Thanks. Glad to know," answered his brother, bitch-face on full mode. Dean looked shocked. He had apparently voiced the thought aloud.

"It's starting already," observed Cas.

"Was there anything you noticed about the cave, Cas?" asked Sam.

"It was a cave," he responded after a few minutes. "I don't exactly spent a lot of time in those places."

"Yeah, just hopping from cloud to cloud," muttered Dean. The others stared at him. Dean sniggered. "Whoops, I did it again, didn't I?"

"Wish you still had your angel mojo now just to shut up fruit loop here," drawled Bobby. Cas gave a bitter smile.

Sam had been looking at his adopted father for some time now, his face worried. Finally, he said, "Bobby, you do realize ... if Ellie is the one doing this, we will have to find her and kill her."

Bobby averted his gaze, unable to hide the resigned expression on his face. He was just about to nod when he heard Cas speak up.

"There is no need to kill her."

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Liz looked at the group of men standing sheepishly in front of her. They had asked her for a huge favor, knowing she should say no, but hoping she would agree. The ranch-hands had asked her for a few days off.

They had noticed the craziness among the townsfolk and they were worried. Most of them lived on the ranch or outside of town, but they would venture into town on their days off.

She knew she should say no, not only because it would be hard for her to run the place without much help, but also because some of the men might actually be infected and didn't know it yet.

But she was hard-pressed to deny their request. Of course they'd be worried. They had families. If she said no, there was nothing stopping them from pulling up stakes and leaving anyway. She and the men all knew this request was more out of courtesy; a way of saying, "We'd like to come back to a job here, but if you don't let us go off, we're gonna go regardless."

Sighing, she asked her foreman, Tom, "Is there any way you guys can stay for a few more days? Maybe this will blow over by then."

Tom shook his head regretfully. "I don't think so, Liz. The men are worried. There's no telling what could happen next time they go to town, or to their wife and kids.

"I'm sorry, Liz. But I think the men are dead-set on going."

She sighed again, nodding in defeat. She was stuck, she thought, walking back to the house. There was no way out other than stopping this thing going through the town. She hoped they would find a way soon.

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Dean blinked in surprise. "What do you mean no need? Don't tell me you're now squeamish about ganking a monster."

"The first priority is to cure you and the town," answered Castiel. "Trying to find her so we can kill her is a waste of time."

Bobby looked at Cas in suspicion. "That doesn't sound like you. What are you not telling us?"

Castiel looked away, his eyes going to the photos on the wall.

"I thought you would be happy with this news. Isn't she someone you used to love?" he asked finally. He missed the hurt look on the grizzled old hunter's face, but he heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath.

"That's a low blow, Cas," muttered Dean. Castiel remained silent; the others looking at him curiously.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, I get what you're saying, Cas - I guess - but we don't have the cure or even an idea what it is."

"Actually, we do have something."

The three stared at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Dean.

"The disease is supernatural but it is still a disease."

"And?"

"And if you recall, I'm immune to it. Which means, I'm the cure," said Castiel calmly.


	10. Episode Ten

**NOTE**: I'm not a medical doctor, so if I get some facts wrong, I'll just say this is a fantasy show and story. Also, chapters may slow down a bit from here on out. I am planning my wedding while working and writing this so it's been a bit crazy. But I promise I will end the tale and not leave you guys hanging. Thanks for sticking by.

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Supernatural. Kripke does.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>

"Ellie's alive?" said Bobby, sitting down next to Dean in disbelief. He had already said it twice.

Sam had been looking at his adopted father for some time now, his face worried. Finally, he said, "Bobby, you do realize ... if Ellie is the one doing this, we will have to find her and kill her."

"There is no need to kill her," said Castiel.

Taking a deep breath, Liz told the Winchesters, "You guys can't leave town. Some stuff has been happening here, and you guys are infected."

"And if you recall, I'm immune to it. Which means, I'm the cure," said Castiel calmly.

**NOW**

The men roped Liz in to help them find a place for blood transfusion and also to withdraw blood from Cas; a lot of blood. She was hesitant at first, pointing out that Cas could only give so much blood per day, but the men insisted, saying they had to try first.

After a few minutes arguing, she suggested they went to Dr. Karl Rutherford, the local general surgeon and practitioner for the town. He was also the doctor who tended to Cas when she and Noreen found him over a month ago.

Liz rode with Cas in Noreen's truck, while Bobby followed in his car and the boys in their Impala. They headed to Dr. Rutherford's clinic.

In town, they noticed the place seemed more deserted than usual. There were still a few people out and about, but most, obviously noticing the strange behavior among some of its residents, had decided it was safer to stay in. Either that, or they were infected themselves and were trying to get some sleep that would not come.

Liz had called ahead and was relieved to find out the doctor had not been affected by the sleep-sickness. He had, however, noticed a lot of his patients come in asking for sleeping aids and pills, and that they did not seem to work. He was just about to call the Centers for Disease Control about it when she told him not to, saying she had some information about the illness.

They were shown to the doctor's office immediately upon arriving. Dr. Rutherford took one look at Liz and the four men, and buzzed his receptionist-cum-nurse.

"Mary, you can go home now. Just put the CLOSED sign up when you leave. Thanks," he said on the intercom. He turned to the five people in the room.

"You guys wanna tell me what's going on?" he asked. His sharp eyes noted one of the men's appearance; the general exhaustion and the black scratches on his neck. This guy was sick with the same thing going through town. He was sporting some bruises, and he held his side carefully, as if it was tender. It was obvious this man had been in a fight. Whether it was illness-related, he couldn't tell.

Dr. Rutherford's eyes fell on Castiel, standing next to the sick man.

"And how are you, Cas?"

"I'm well, thank you," answered Castiel. The short bespectacled middle-aged man had a genial and no-nonsense air about him that belied his sharp intellect. He had noticed many things about Castiel when he had examined the man, including his ability to heal at a faster rate than normal. Not to say he was Wolverine, but if someone took six days to heal, Cas would take three.

He had also been puzzled by Castiel's memory loss, noting the cause was not physical, failing to find any head injuries. The only think he knew for sure was that the man had gone through a major traumatic event.

"I take it you remember now." It was a statement, not a question.

Castiel gave a small smile. "Yes."

"What's your actual name?"

"Believe it or not, it's Cas. Actually, it's Castiel, but friends -" a quick glance at the other men "- people call me Cas."

Dr. Rutherford raised his eyebrows. "Huh, just Castiel?"

Smirking, the sick man with the green eyes and the dark blond hair interjected, "Yeah, just Castiel. One name; like Madonna and Cher."

Dr. Rutherford nodded, still curious but willing to let it go. He had known there was something different about Noreen's supposed old college buddy. His eyes studied the three strange men in his surgery, looking at them enquiringly.

The huge one smiled and made the necessary introductions.

"Nice to meet you, but knowing your names doesn't explain that mysterious phone call," said the doctor gruffly.

Liz sighed. It was time to lay out the crazy. "This thing in town, doc, it's something new."

"I know, which is why I was going to call the CDC before you stopped me."

"Wouldn't have done you any good," said the older man with the trucker cap - Bobby Singer.

"Why not?"

The giant in the group, Sam Winchester, spoke, "When you ran tests on your patients, did you happen to see anything weird?"

Dr. Rutherford looked levelly at Sam as if wondering who the hell the guy was. "There's a higher amount of adenosine but that's typical for people who can't sleep. The problem is there's no reason for it," he answered finally.

"Anything else?"

"Some people have some strange hormone imbalance."

Sam pushed Dean towards the doctor. "Can you test him?"

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Dr. Rutherford looked at the results of the blood test twice, as if hoping the results would change on second viewing. In the end, he pinched the bridge of his nose and set down the test results. Sam and Dean Winchester sat in the chairs in front of his desk, while Cas sat on the bed where the doctor did his examinations. He was inspecting the stirrups, looking at them curiously. Dr. Rutherford wondered if the man had ever seen or even knew what they were for. Liz sat in a corner and the older guy stood by the door.

"Well, what is it, doc? Don't spare the details," drawled Dean.

"Congratulations," said Dr. Rutherford. "You're pregnant."

Dean's eyes widened, while Sam stifled a laugh. Liz and Bobby grinned. Cas looked puzzled.

"Or you hit menopause. Your test results are all over the place," continued the doctor. Dean relaxed, punching Sam in the shoulder for laughing.

"What do you mean, Karl?" asked Liz.

"His estrogen and progesterone levels are elevated, which explains the insomnia. There are a few like you in town by the way, young man, so don't feel bad about going through the Big Change," he said. Liz laughed.

"What about Cas's blood?" she asked.

Dr. Rutherford frowned. "Abnormally normal."

"Erm, what do you mean?" asked Sam.

"He has no antibodies to anything. But at the same time, he's got incredible white blood cell reaction," said Dr. Rutherford. "I introduced a virus for the hell of it and the white blood cells were just vicious. Ripped it apart in seconds. With that kind of aggression, we usually see the cells turning against the body, but nope. It's really fascinating."

The four men and Liz looked blankly at the doctor. He coughed uncomfortably, realizing he had geeked out over Cas's blood.

"Anyway, I introduced Cas's blood to your sample," he told Dean.

"And?"

"And I think it worked."

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Dean lay down on the examination bed, while Dr. Rutherford inserted the IV into Dean's arm. He had already withdrawn almost 2 liters of Cas's blood. He wanted to withdraw less, saying anything more would cause the man to go into shock, but the blue-eyed man insisted. Nevertheless, Dr. Rutherford drew the line at 1.84 liters, and made sure Liz watched Cas and gave him chocolates and juice while he recovered.

"I don't have time to separate the plasma and platelets, but I don't think you should get a reaction - Cas is O negative. I'll just try 5cc first and see how it works," he told Dean.

"Whatever floats your boat, doc. I'm just weirded out getting a little angel in me," answered the young man. Dr. Rutherford stared at Dean.

Sam slapped his hand over his brother's mouth. "Erm, he's a bit delirious."

The doctor looked at Sam and Dean suspiciously. "Uh - huh," he said noncommittally. He had noticed how the others had tensed up when Dean said those words. Dismissing the mystery from his mind - for now at least - he injected Cas's blood into the IV line and told the green-eyed man to rest.

While the Liz and Dr. Rutherford fussed over Dean and Cas, Sam inclined his head to Bobby, motioning towards the hallway. The older hunter followed Sam out of surgery.

"What's wrong?"

"It's going to take time before we can treat everyone infected," said Sam.

"Can't be helped unless you want to bleed Cas dry," said Bobby.

"I know. But maybe we can find Ellie in the meantime."

Bobby frowned. "I thought we agreed there was no need?"

Sam gave a small smile. "Yeah, because the first priority was to find a cure. But we have that now and we can't just sit around until we get enough blood to give everyone."

Bobby snuck a look at the former angel lying on the gurney next to Dean. Cas had his eyes closed. He looked tired, his face drawn. Turning back to Sam, Bobby said, "I don't exactly trust Cas now after what's happened, but Sam, I did some research on the aeglaeca. There is no record of anything that can kill them."

"Well, they're monsters. That usually means iron, right?"

"Or silver. Or fire. Or anything out there. Face it, Sam, we're facing a new type of monster here. Like it or not, we're gonna have to trust Cas. He doesn't have a reason to lie. His girlfriend is sick too."

"And missing. We haven't found her yet." Sam paused. "You said you talked to the psychic earlier. Did she tell you anything else?"

"Hell if I know."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how psychics are. Can never get a straight answer out of them."

"What did she say?"

"Same thing as before, pretty much. Shadows and fire. Just a bunch of crap in a whole pile of don't-mean-shit," drawled Bobby.

"Well, we have her name. Maybe we can use it to find Noreen. And try to find Ellie at the same time."

"Ellie is wearing that guy's mom's meatsuit. It's not her real name, so the spell won't work."

"Eleanor isn't her real name, but maybe Visyak is."

Bobby looked unconvinced.

Sam continued, "Look, I'm just saying we can try locating her. We won't go after her until we figure out her weak points."

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

Dr. Rutherford wanted to keep Dean and Cas for observation for a few hours. Sam was relieved to see Dean sleeping soundly after an hour of receiving the injection. Dr. Rutherford was talking about writing a paper about the disease and Cas's blood, until Liz managed to drag him away and convince him not to. The selling point was that the medical community would laugh him out of a license and a practice if he did it, since neither Cas nor any of them would collaborate or sign a waiver.

The doctor looked so disheartened that Liz had to put a comforting hand around him.

"I know, Karl. But trust me, this isn't something that you'd ever see again if these men succeed," she said. He frowned in confusion.

Sighing, she added, "These guys, they're like the CDC of weird stuff. Don't ask. You don't wanna know."

He looked her in the eye and saw she meant every word. "OK, Liz. You're lucky I've known you since you were a kid, or I'd call the men in white jackets about now."

She laughed. "I know."

Mollified, Dr. Rutherford went back to his patients. Dean was sleeping, dead to the world. The scratches on his neck were already turning into the more normal red. His complexion was improving too, looking less pale under the bruises. Dr. Rutherford applied ice packs to Dean's bruised ribs, to reduce the swelling. He had earlier given the young man some ibuprofen to help the healing process.

Drawing the curtains separating the beds, he saw Cas drinking the juice Liz had given him. The man had not fainted or gone into shock as Dr. Rutherford had feared when he withdrew that much blood, but Cas still got a bit dizzy right after the procedure. Typically for this odd man, he was recovering fast.

Stepping back out, he saw Liz talking with the giant and Bobby in a low voice. She was mostly doing the listening, nodding occasionally. Then she gave them a key from her key set. Thanking her, they left.

"Am I missing anything?" he asked her when she rejoined him.

"Nothing you can help with. Not yet anyway."

He narrowed his eyes at her, curious.

**_spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn_**

It was dark by the time Sam and Dean got to the barn Liz had told them about. The ranch was largely deserted; Liz had told them many of her men were spooked by the goings on in town and had left. They were glad; it meant there would be few witnesses to what they were about to do.

Using spray cans, they drew sigils and arcane symbols on the walls and floor. Bobby was reminded of another time when he did this; it was with Dean and the rite was to summon Castiel, the being who pulled Dean out of Hell. A lot of water had passed under the bridge since then.

Once they finished redecorating the barn, Sam lit candles, took out a silver bowl and cut into his hand, clenching his fist to let the blood drip into the bowl. Bobby gave him a crystal attached to a leather thong and laid out a detailed map of the area on the floor.

"Who first?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "Noreen, I guess. We know her name for sure."

Bobby nodded and stepped back. Sam opened the book on incantations and read out the spell, letting the crystal lie in the bowl of blood. Then, he took the crystal and let it hang over the map. The crystal started swinging like a pendulum, making smaller circles until finally, it latched onto a spot on the map. The crystal stood upright, on its own accord.

"You got it, Bobby?"

"Yeah," said the older hunter, writing down the coordinates.

Sam nodded and stopped channeling the spell. The crystal plopped down, the leather thong going slack.

"Try finding Ellie now?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah. Might as well."

They got fresh ingredients and repeated the spell. The crystal did its pendulum act and landed on a spot on the map. Sam frowned, looking at Bobby in puzzlement. Bobby shrugged.

"Try again," he suggested.

Sam repeated the spell and again, the crystal went to the same spot.

"Is it confused?" asked Sam, meaning the crystal.

"It's just a crystal. It's not Google maps."

"So what does this mean?"

"Either the spell fizzled or Cas has been holding out on us," said Bobby. "Again."


	11. Episode Eleven

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Supernatural. Kripke and Co. do, yada, yada, yada.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>

"How did you get that scratch?" asked Castiel. Parker looked at his arm. "About two weeks ago, I guess."

Liz turned to Bobby. "You ex-girlfriend apparently poisoned my town. What are you planning to do about it?"

Dean blinked in surprise at Cas. "What do you mean no need? Don't tell me you're now squeamish about ganking a monster."

"I can't say this changes anything or that I trust you. I'm glad you're alive but ..." said Dean.

"Either the spell fizzled or Cas has been holding out on us," said Bobby. "Again."

**NOW**

Sam went to pick up Dean at the clinic while Bobby stayed back at the ranch to do more research. On his way there, he kept mulling over what he and Bobby had discovered. He did not think Cas necessarily had a bad reason for withholding information while distracting them with the cure, but the information was significant enough that he could not help questioning Cas's motives. Truth be told, Dean did need the cure from the illness and Cas did save his life, but he could have also told them about Ellie, and given the cure anyway.

He sighed. He wanted badly to trust Cas again.

Walking into the doctor's office, he found Dean, Cas, Liz and Dr. Rutherford huddled around the doctor's desk in deep discussion. Dr. Rutherford was talking about the delivery method for the cure.

"The best way is an IV line, as you saw with Dean, but try convincing a bunch of extremely cranky sleep-deprived folks they need to lie still with a needle in them.

"I might as well jab my eye out now and save myself the trouble," he added sardonically.

"Will it work if people consume it?" asked Cas.

"It'll take some time but yeah, it should work. Problem is, how are you gonna do that? Can't force them to eat or drink either." The doctor sighed, sitting back in his chair. "We need to find a way to get your blood into their bloodstream somehow."

"We can always have Cas bite 'em," joked Dean.

The others stared at him. Sam studied his brother. Dean was looking much better after getting a few hours of sleep. He still showed some signs of residual tiredness, but none of that exhaustion that had marked him earlier.

"No, I don't think that would work," said Cas seriously. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Can't you just treat a few for now?" asked Sam.

Dr. Rutherford frowned, considering his words. "I suppose," he said doubtfully. "But who?"

"We should start with the deputy," said Cas.

"Parker? He's sick?" asked the doctor.

Cas nodded. "He's one of the first." The others looked at him in surprise. He flushed, slightly embarrassed to be the center of attention.

"I talked to him after Noreen was attacked. He was the one who told me about the first patient."

Sam and Dean looked impressed. Castiel had done his homework, and this was _before_ he found out who he was.

"Well, then," said Dr. Rutherford. "We should get Parker just on the grounds he's got a gun and the license to use it."

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

They decided Sam, Dean and Cas would go and get Deputy Parker, at gunpoint if necessary, while Liz and Dr. Rutherford waited at the clinic. The doctor gave them the deputy's address; Cas would go ahead and the Winchesters would follow. On their way out, Sam called Bobby and asked the veteran hunter to meet them at the deputy's house.

Based on what Cas had told them at the clinic, Dean guessed the deputy was the boyfriend the bar waitress at the motel had told him about – the one who had been shooting squirrels and other furry animals. He wondered how long it would take before Parker moved up the food chain and went after people.

"Cas said the guy had nightmares about zombie squirrels as a kid," he commented to Sam, laughing. "Lucky you didn't get sick or no clown would be safe."

Sam didn't respond, causing Dean to glance at his brother curiously. Sam had that look on his face, the one that said "I just found out something but I'm not sure how to say it."

Dean sighed. "OK, spit it out. What now?"

Sam pursed his lips, his face unsure. Dean frowned and nudged his brother. "What's up?"

"OK, if I tell you, don't jump to conclusions," answered Sam. "Let's just do what we have to do and we can talk to Cas afterwards."

Dean's face hardened, his eyes going to the truck in front of them. Sam's words did not sound good.

"What is it, Sammy?"

Sam rolled his eyes. When Dean called him Sammy in that tone of voice, it meant Dean had gone into big brother mode, exactly the opposite reaction Sam was hoping for.

"While you were out, Bobby and I did the locator spell for Noreen," started Sam.

"OK. You found her?"

"Yes ..."

Dean frowned at his brother. He had noticed the hesitance. "What else?"

"We looked for Ellie too," said Sam.

"We tried that before. It didn't work."

"Because we got the name wrong."

"So what changed?"

"We tried the name Visyak," said Sam, shrugging. "Figured we had nothing to lose."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah, it worked."

"Not seeing the down side here, Sam."

"That's not all."

"What do you mean?"

Sam took a deep breath. There was no way to soften the blow. "Ellie took over Noreen. And Cas knew."

He looked carefully at Dean's face. His brother's eyes had gone flat with the announcement. Inwardly, Sam cursed himself. Maybe he shouldn't have told Dean but he was bound to find out anyway.

"Dean, you OK?" he ventured finally. The only response he got was a grunt. Dean had shut down yet again.

The truck in front of them slowed down. They had entered a residential area. There weren't that many houses, but the ones that were there were mostly sprawling one-storey buildings, neat and spaced well apart. Afghan pine trees dotted the area here and there, relieving the barren landscape. Following Cas, they parked on a side road under a power line. The roads were dark; there were few streetlights to alert any of their presence, which suited their purposes just fine.

The only exception was a small house at the edge of the neighborhood. It was lit up like a Christmas tree.

"The deputy lives there," said Cas in a low voice once they joined him, pointing to the lit house.

Dean found it hard to look at Cas. All he could think of was that once again Cas had chosen to go his own way and withhold information from them, from him. He nodded curtly and took out a shotgun from the trunk.

"Parker is sleep-deprived and most likely extremely paranoid. He will shoot first. But we need him alive," said Cas, looking pointedly at the shotgun in Dean's hands.

"We won't use it to kill him," said Dean nonchalantly. He swiftly brought up the weapon and aimed it at Cas. "But I may use it to kill you."

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Dr. Rutherford stared at Liz over the glasses of scotch he had poured out earlier. Liz sat nervously in her seat, unsure what to do.

"So ... demons, angels, ghosts, vampires, monsters ... all real?" asked the doctor finally.

Liz nodded.

"What about bigfoot?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure. I haven't heard the Winchesters mention it."

"Maybe because they are not technically monsters, just a different form of humanoids," suggested Dr. Rutherford.

She shrugged. "You'll have to talk to them about that."

The doctor nodded, still mulling over what Liz had told him. There were still some bits in Liz's tale that were beyond belief. The only reason he had not given Liz some anti-psychotic drugs in response was because he knew the woman. Liz was sensible and practical almost to a fault; she was not the sort to believe or trust anyone easily, let alone an incredible tale as this without good reason. Now, if it was Noreen ... that girl was smart but much too romantic for her own good.

"So Cas is an ex-angel who became God and is now human because he went on a power trip," he commented. "That explains his blood anyway."

"Yeah."

Dr. Rutherford gave a sardonic laugh. "You definitely don't have to worry about any medical articles from me now."

They sat in the office in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Liz was wondering, now that they knew monsters and everything else existed, how they would go on with their lives. Would she always have salt and iron with her wherever she went? Not to mention silver, holy water, and charms and talismans. She just hoped she wouldn't come off as one of those crazy superstitious women, so laden with occult jewelry that they jingled every time they walked.

Finally, Dr. Rutherford sighed and took out two syringes. He filled them up with some of Cas's blood and held out his hand. Liz looked at him curiously.

"Give me your arm," he said.

She hesitantly complied. "Why?"

"I'm hoping his blood will protect us from whatever this is," he replied, finding a vein in Liz's arm and pressing down on the syringe.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

In the darkness of the cave, Ellie opened her eyes. She felt it, a tiny ripple in her circle of influence. What mere humans would dismiss as a mere blip on the radar, she knew with the wisdom of an ancient being that it could prove her end.

Something existed to neutralize her powers – something that had never existed before in all of her centuries. Heroes had killed her kind before, but it had been bloody and with huge casualties. Very few had survived to tell the tale of her demise in the 11th Century and none had ever succeeded in stopping her powers. Villages had come and gone, disappearing off the face of the earth when she had turned her eyes on them. Only one account remained, mainly because it was a tale handed down the generations by word of mouth.

Her existence then was very simple; pay a tribute and the humans would be spared. Fail that and she would attack. Sometimes she would attack anyway, if she was feeling bored, but especially if she suspected they no longer feared her.

It was the fear. Instead of growing in the town, which was what she had been sensing these past weeks, it was starting to ebb. Not by much, not even by a little bit, but it signaled the beginning of the end.

She flexed her fingers, her new fingers. She had called for Noreen as soon as the woman fell under her influence, partly because of the woman's connection to the angel who had tortured her and caused her death. Inside, Noreen was still trying to fight back but her attempts were getting feeble every day. Soon, Noreen would disappear, dead inside in all respects but actual death.

Her green eyes hard, Ellie decided it was time to send another message.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Castiel raised his hands, backing away from Dean. Next to him, Sam stared at his brother in shock.

"Dude, what are you doing?" he asked. "This is not the time."

"I'm sick of this, Sam," answered Dean angrily. "Death tells us to look for him, Crowley dangles Ellen and Jo in front of us, we find him and he still lies to us."

Eyes narrowed, he turned to Castiel, the hands holding the shotgun steady. "What are you up to, Cas?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Noreen and Ellie. Did you know Ellie took her over?"

Castiel's gaze went to the shotgun in Dean's hands and then back to the hunter.

"Yes," he said finally.

Dean swore. "Why didn't you tell us this? What else are you hiding?"

Castiel gave Dean a calm look and lowered his hands. "The short answer is that I didn't want you killing her. Not until I've had a chance to save her."

"You should know by now how we work. We don't go around ganking innocent people."

"I seem to recall you killing several demons and their hosts," retorted Castiel.

Dean glared at the former angel. "Oh yeah? I don't remember you protesting too much when we did it. In fact, I remember you going light-saber on their asses on more than one occasion."

"I know. Angels see things differently; it's the soul that counts. What's your excuse?"

The two stared angrily at each other, and once again, Sam intervened, stepping in between them.

"Cas, you have to look at this from our perspective. It's hard for us to work with you when you hide things from us," he said.

"Trust works both ways, Sam," said Castiel, keeping his eyes on Dean. "You've all said, one way or another, that you didn't trust me. What made you think I trusted you?"

Sam smiled ruefully, maybe a bit shamefully. Behind him, Dean slowly lowered his gun. What Cas had pointed out was true.

"You're right," said Sam finally, taking a deep breath. "We can't expect you to trust us when we don't do the same with you. We're sorry."

He glanced meaningfully at his brother, who grimaced and sighed.

"What he said," said Dean uncomfortably.

Castiel studied the two and nodded curtly. "It ... hasn't been easy," he acknowledged haltingly.

Dean exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. "OK. Full disclosure. No more secrets."

Castiel gave a small smile. "Agreed."

"Is there a way, Cas? To save her?" asked Sam. His eyes searched the former angel's face, who looked troubled at the question.

Finally, Castiel sighed and said, "Maybe. But it will not be without consequence."

The brothers nodded, unsure what to say. They had seen the flash of pain that crossed their friend's countenance. Dean was struck anew at how same and different Castiel was. The Castiel he knew rarely had qualms about killing innocents if it meant saving everyone else. But he was also compassionate; managing to bond with some humans - _with them_ - with an empathy that was beyond any of his kin.

They heard a vehicle coming to a stop close by and then footsteps crunching on gravel, heading towards them. They turned to see Bobby with his hunter's bag.

"What did I miss?" asked Bobby.


	12. Episode Twelve

**AUTHOR's NOTE: **This episode is a bit short but mehh ...

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Supernatural. Kripke, CW, etc do.

* * *

><p><strong>THEN<strong>

"We need to find a way to get your blood into their bloodstream somehow," said Dr. Rutherford.

"We should start with the deputy," said Castiel. "He's one of the first infected."

"You're right," said Sam finally, taking a deep breath. "We can't expect you to trust us when we don't do the same with you. We're sorry."

"Parker is sleep-deprived and most likely extremely paranoid. He will shoot first. But we need him alive," said Cas, looking pointedly at the shotgun in Dean's hands.

**NOW**

Liz looked at her watch. The guys were taking a bit too long. She hoped nothing had gone wrong. Deputy Parker was – no pun intended – a squirrelly son of a bitch. Maybe it was just her nerves, but she hated having to wait.

She rubbed the needle mark on her arm. The area was a bit sore but otherwise, she didn't feel any worse or better than she did before. She wasn't sure if allowing Dr. Rutherford to use her as a guinea pig to test Cas's blood as a vaccine was a smart idea, but desperate times called for desperate measures, she supposed.

A sudden shout from Dr. Rutherford startled her out of her reverie. The doctor had been poring through some medical reference books, hoping to find inspiration from them.

"Karl? You OK?"

Dr. Rutherford raised triumphant eyes to Liz, his face beaming. "I think I've figured out how to get Cas's blood to everyone. Well, kind of."

She gaped. "How?"

"I'm gonna need to raid your kitchen."

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Bobby creakily climbed up the electrical pole. Before he took out the transformer, he looked down at the three.

"You know when the lights go off, all bets are off?" he warned them.

They nodded. They knew it would be tricky. Based on what Cas, Liz and Dr. Rutherford had told them, Parker was a Nam vet and now a deputy in the sheriff's department. He was getting on in age, and had a genial and harmless reputation, but in his sleep-deprived state, he was easily dangerous. He also apparently had an arsenal of weapons at his disposal – not exactly a gun-nut but close enough.

Bobby cut the wires, and the neighborhood plunged into darkness. The only light came from the moon, hanging low in the sky.

"You guys go through the back and Sam and I will take the front," whispered Dean. Sam nodded and started to make his way to Parker's house. Castiel grabbed Dean's arm just as the hunter passed him.

Sam and Dean stared at Cas, their eyes curious.

"What?" asked Dean.

"If any of you get hurt, you realize I can no longer heal you," said Cas quietly.

Dean glanced at Sam, both surprised that this was all the former angel could think about. Coughing uncomfortably, Dean patted Cas on his back. "Don't worry about us. Just worry about yourself.

"And if anything happens, don't worry, we have your back."

Cas smiled. Dean noticed the way he handled the rifle - Noreen's, he had told them earlier. He seemed more comfortable with guns compared to their time in Grand's Pass. But Dean suspected Cas would always instinctively use his hands and blades first before guns.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

"Think it will work?" asked Liz. Dr. Rutherford had just outlined his idea of an easy-to-force feed cure for the townsfolk. It sounded a bit iffy, but she had to admit, it would solve almost all of their problems if it worked.

"It is a fast way of getting people to ingest the cure. It's practically guaranteed to cross the blood-brain barrier, better than any pill," replied the doctor, putting some medical supplies and equipment into his bag. He then unlocked his pharmaceutical cupboard and examined the contents critically, wondering if he should take them with him now in case he needed them or wait until he knew for sure what he needed.

At any rate, he should take the potassium chlorate for disinfecting purposes.

Liz stared as he read the labels on containers and bottles, following him from the office to his store room like a clueless assistant whose boss with the crazy hair had suddenly realized the awesomeness of lightning.

"And that is important because …?" she asked.

"Because the brain regulates sleep and dreams. You want to affect sleep, you go for the brain."

"Doesn't everything do that?"

"It does, sooner or later," he answered, looking around the store room. "But this way, it is sooner. People should be able to feel the effects immediately."

His eyes spotted a roller travel bag in a corner of the room and took it out. He put some syringes, inhalers, gloves and medicines into it, pausing when he came to the hot plate. He shrugged and tossed it into the luggage. Grunting, he zipped it up with some difficulty and stood back, filled with a sense of accomplishment as his eyes took in the bulging luggage.

Liz sighed, taking out her cellphone. "We should probably tell the guys to meet us at the ranch then."

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

The cellphone vibrated in Bobby's pocket.

"Hang on," he told the others, his hand fumbling for the cellphone. Turning aside, Bobby put the phone to his ear, listening more than speaking, nodding occasionally. With a snap, he put the phone away and turned to them.

"That was Liz," he said. "The doc thinks he may have figured out a way of getting the cure out to people quickly."

"What is it?" asked Dean.

"She didn't say. Just to head for the ranch once we get Parker."

"Anything else?" asked Dean.

"That's it."

Dean nodded. "All righty then. Let's move out."

Silently, the four split up into groups – Dean and Sam headed to the front of the house while Cas and Bobby went to the back.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Once Sam reached the house, he carefully tested the windows as he went, hoping to find one that was unlocked. So far, no luck.

Parker's house had only one storey but it was wide, shaped like a rectangle and built in the hacienda style with low arches. Liz had drawn a rough layout of the house: there were two bedrooms on the west side; the front door opened into the living room, which adjoined with the dining room; and the den was on the south-east side of the house, while the kitchen was on the north-east side. The windows were big picture windows and the glass tinted; designed not only for beauty but for function, allowing the occupant to let out the heat.

"You sure about this? This guy has a gun and is trigger-happy," whispered Sam to Dean.

"We have to draw him out, Sam. Not as if you're not used to being the pinata," said Dean. "Just keep to the plan, we'll be fine."

Sam grimaced.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

When the lights gave out, Parker knew what was happening immediately. He had been sitting, curled in a corner of the den, alert for any attack. That was how he spent his nights nowadays. Finally, it was happening.

Quietly, he crawled to his gun case he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk and took out his Glock. He also checked the automatic strapped to his ankle. Satisfied he had enough ammunition to take out the whole zombie squirrel army, he slowly went through the house, carefully stepping over the booby traps he had rigged up.

There was enough light from the moon. He saw the shadow outside; it looked huge. He knew it, the squirrels had mutated. His face determined, he went to the kitchen and turned on the gas.

Next, he hid behind the settee, nervously fingering the grenade in his pocket. The squirrels were not taking him alive.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

"They're taking too long. Something's wrong," said Cas to Bobby. They were in the backyard, waiting for the signal.

"Well, what do you suggest? We can't just ninja our way in. And you ain't an angel anymore."

Cas looked up at the tree next to him. It was an old tree, huge and leafy with thick branches that grew out every which way. He noted how one particular branch extended over the house. His sharp eyes also saw the skylight.

"Maybe not you, but I think I can climb up and get through the opening there," he said.

Bobby gaped. "Are you that tired of living, you idjit? Death gave you a free pass and you want to see him again, so soon?"

Cas glanced at him, but didn't answer. He grabbed a branch and hoisted himself up. Bobby swore, covering idiotic angels and their God complex and immortal bad habits. Cas's ears burned just from the few choice words that Bobby directed at him and his body parts. He paused and looked down at the hunter standing near the tree.

"I understand your frustration, but what has my gender got to do with this?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Balls," he said.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

"This has got to be your stupidest plan, Dean," muttered Sam. They were next to the front door, just waiting for the right time to barge in.

"You have a better idea?"

Sam made a face and took out a gun.

"You ready?" asked Dean. Sam sighed and nodded, praying he and his brother would make out of the house alive.

"On three - One, two, three!"

Sam kicked the door open and slammed against the wall in front of the house, while Dean crashed through the front window. Sam's hand tightened over his gun.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Castiel tread carefully over the shingles on the roof, headed towards the skylight. He felt more at home the higher he got and the smaller the ground got. He missed no longer being able to see Earth from a vantage point. He wondered what flying in an airplane felt like. He knew Dean hated it.

Down below, he could hear Bobby shuffling near the back door, waiting to rush in as soon as they hear Dean call out.

His nose twitched. For some reason, he got the image of Liz cooking.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Parker was going to shoot when the front door crashed open, but stopped when he remembered the gas. _Not yet, _he thought. _Get the squirrels in first._

He heard a crash and glass breaking from his right. He turned towards the window, where something had just crashed through it. His eyes picked out a figure lying on the ground, swearing with pain. The thumbtacks Parker had placed in front of all windows jabbed had done their work.

Parker ducked behind the settee. He had seen the thing. It was as big as a human male but he could have sworn he saw a furry tail. He slowly took the gun out of the ankle holster. He intended to go down with guns blazing.

Standing up, he used whatever light that came through from outside and aimed at the mutant squirrel.

A huge figure came and stood in the doorway.

"Hey!" shouted Sam.

Parker turned one gun towards the giant, the other on the figure by the window, his finger on the trigger.

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Sam ducked when he saw the glint off Parker's gun, while Dean rolled behind a wall. At the same moment, Castiel crashed through the skylight, landing on Parker just as he was about to shoot. Castiel kicked out as he fell, successfully knocking the guns out of the deputy's hands and the man himself to the floor. Before Parker could react, Castiel struck him across his head with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out.

Hearing the commotion, Bobby ran in through the kitchen door. And smelled the gas.

The three got to their feet, looking at the comatose deputy. They heard a clatter.

Something rolled out of the deputy's pocket. It was round and ominous. It was also missing a pin.

Bobby gaped. "Oh, shiiiiiit!"


	13. Episode Thirteen

**DISCLAIMER**:

Last I checked my name isn't Kripke and neither do I own CW. Everything here belongs to them.

**THEN**  
>"It is a fast way of getting people to ingest the cure. It's practically guaranteed to cross the blood-brain barrier, better than any pill," said the doctor, putting some medical supplies and equipment into his bag.<br>Her green eyes hard, Ellie decided it was time to send another message.  
>"Well then," said Dr. Rutherford. "We should get Parker just on the grounds he's got a gun and the license to use it."<br>Something rolled out of the deputy's pocket. It was round and ominous. It was also missing a pin. Bobby gaped. "Oh, shiiiiiit!"

**NOW  
><strong>The four froze for a second when they saw the grenade roll out of the deputy's pocket. Then, quick as lightning, Castiel, who was the closest, grabbed the ball of death and lobed it through the open front door, before ducking behind the settee next to Parker. Sam dove into the den next to living room, while Dean curled up in the brace position in a corner behind the wall, near the window. Bobby had run out of the kitchen, his hands around his head.  
>They waited for the inevitable explosion, coupled with the roar of flames from the cooking gas, spelling their end.<br>All they heard were crickets chirping and some colorful phrases from Sam.  
>Gingerly, Dean came out from behind the wall, rubbing his arms and shoulders, grimacing. The thumbtacks he had landed on when he had crashed through the window had cut tiny little gashes into his body; it was like being covered with dozens of paper cuts. Bobby slowly walked in through the kitchen, shutting off the stove on his way in. Castiel stood over the unconscious deputy, frowning in puzzlement.<br>"I don't hear anything," he said.  
>"Must be a dud. Probably a relic from Nam," said Bobby.<br>Dean exhaled in relief. "That was a lucky break."  
>He bent down by the deputy and took out some plastic cuffs. He put them on Parker's hands and as an afterthought, put another around his feet. Cas had done a good job; the deputy was fully out, not reacting to Dean's less than gentle ministrations.<br>"Nice job on the skylight. With the gas on …" said Bobby.  
>Castiel smiled. He understood what Bobby was trying to say. If he had not crashed in when he did; Sam, Dean or Parker would have fired off a shot and they would have all been blown into smithereens.<br>"Thank you," he said, somewhat surprised that the gruff hunter was complimenting him without giving a lecture. He should have known it was too good to last.  
>"But grabbing a grenade with your hands? Of all the stupid ass shithead moves … " continued Bobby. "You're not an angel any more. Keep that up and it's bye bye birdie."<br>"Yeah, well. He's one of us, what did you expect?" said Dean, wiping his hands. He stood up, his eyes going around the room.  
>"Where's Sam?" he asked.<br>"Here!" They heard Sam call out. His voice sounded a bit muffled. They headed in the direction of his voice carefully. The sight that met their eyes stunned them ... for a moment.  
>Dean burst out laughing.<br>When Sam dove into the den adjoining the living room, he had failed to notice a trip wire strung across the archway. It was rigged to a heavy moose head complete with antlers that hung over the doorway. If squirrels had tripped the wire, the moose head would have dropped and killed them. Instead, Sam had blundered through. Rather than killing him, the moose head had just found a new home, fully covering Sam's head.  
>"A little help?" asked Sam piteously, his hands clutching the moose head, trying to lift it off his shoulders. "And shut up, Dean."<br>That made Dean laugh even harder, doubling up, tears coming out of his eyes. Bobby tried hard not to grin but failed. Castiel couldn't help smiling either, even as he walked carefully over to Sam, who was getting frustrated with the moose head.  
>He stood next to the tall Winchester and tried to help Sam lift the head off. It didn't work. He turned his eyes to Bobby, asking for help. Dean was a hopeless case, fully on the floor now, laughing.<br>Still grinning, Bobby came over and tried to do the same. The head budged a little.  
>"Ow, ow, ow!" Sam's hands slapped Cas's and Bobby's hands away.<br>"If you want it off, you gotta stand still, ya idjit," growled Bobby.  
>"Yeah, moose, listen to Bobby," said Dean before breaking into laughter again.<br>Sam put up three of his fingers up in the general direction he guessed Dean was.  
>"Read between the lines," he snapped.<br>Castiel tried to pull the moose head again. It barely moved. "It's stuck."  
>Bobby stepped back, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "Don't think we can do anything here. We need tools."<br>Dean, who had started to quiet down, laughed again. Sam sighed, putting his hands on his hips, the moose head glaring at them.  
>"This is so not cool," he said.<p>

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

The basement at Liz's house was full of knick knacks, junk and relics of whatever fancy or hobby she and her husband picked up since they had been together. And considering they had met in college during their marriage, they had amassed a lot of crap.  
>Liz tucked an errant curl behind her ear before rummaging through the pile of kitchen utensils she had collected during her Martha Stewart phase. Dr. Rutherford was upstairs in the kitchen, unpacking the goodies from his clinic. Her fingers closed around the dehydrator.<br>She saw the headlights through the basement window and heard three vehicles coming to a stop. Good, the guys were back.  
>Liz entered the kitchen and stifled a shriek, clutching the machine to her chest. Somehow a moose had managed to get into her house. After a few seconds of staring, her brain prodded her and told her what she initially thought was a case of animal gone wild was instead a case of mistaken identity. Her lips twitched.<br>Dean was standing over the moose, grinning while Dr. Rutherford applied something sticky along the lining of the stuffed head. She smelled cooking fat. "That Sam?" she asked, smiling. Her eyes went around the kitchen. She didn't see Cas or Bobby.  
>"Yep," chortled Dean.<br>"Shut up, Dean. This is not funny," she heard Sam's voice coming angrily from inside the moose head. He had moved to address Dean; Dr. Rutherford and Dean hurriedly ducked and weaved out of the way of the huge antlers.  
>"Keep still, young man," said the doctor, moving in again. Dean sniggered.<br>"Where's Cas and Bobby?" asked Liz.  
>"They weren't sure where to put Parker so I told them to drop him off in the guest room," answered Dr. Rutherford distractedly.<br>"Don't worry, Liz. We tied him up so he shouldn't be any trouble even if he wakes up," said Dean.  
>Dr. Rutherford straightened up, opening his medical bag and taking out a syringe and a tiny bottle filled with a clear liquid. He rubbed an alcohol wipe on a spot in Sam's arm. "Well, the good news is I think it's ready."<br>"What's the bad news?" asked Sam worriedly.  
>"It's going to hurt." With that, the doctor plunged the syringe into Sam's arm.<p>

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

****Liz poured the blood into the container, grimacing as she did so. Even though the blood was a cure for the sleeping sickness and she was doing a good thing, she still felt icky like she was a serial killer on the loose. Closing the top, she turned on the machine.  
>After much grunting and yelling, the guys had managed to pull the moose head off of Sam. Luckily, the hubbub had mostly come from Dean, Cas and Bobby, and not from Sam, who was semi-conscious and extremely happy with the drugs Dr. Rutherford had given him before Operation Moose Head started.<br>Tossing the head aside, the doctor had told the others to let Sam sleep off the drugs. They left him on the couch.  
>"Why are we doing this again?" she asked. The dehydrator hummed next to her.<br>"We need Cas's blood in powder form," said Dr. Rutherford. Bobby, Dean and Cas sat with the doctor, cleaning out some aluminum tubes.  
>"For?" asked Dean.<br>"For people to breathe in."

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

Sam woke up grinning. The tranquilizer Dr. Rutherford had given him felt good. He was smiling like an idiot, filled with an optimism that was usually severely lacking in his existence. He heard the drone of voices from the kitchen. Massaging his neck, he swung his long legs off the couch, intent on joining them.  
>Suddenly, the lights went out. He heard a clatter, a scream and gunshots. Feeling a bit befuddled, he staggered towards the kitchen.<br>Something struck him, pushing him on to his back. As quickly as it came, the thing moved. Sam felt a breath of wind as the thing brushed against him.  
>Eyes alert, all traces of drug gone from his system as his adrenaline kicked in, he got to a crouching position. Quietly, he moved next to the couch, his ears straining for any sign of the intruder or his friends. He patted his clothes for his gun; there was nothing. Cursing inwardly, he remembered he had put it down in the kitchen when Dr. Rutherford started the process of removing the moose head.<br>From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a shadow. There was a laugh, a woman's laugh. Sam felt his skin crawling, the hair on his arms rising at the sound. The woman's laughter was cold and full of malice.  
>He had to go to the kitchen. He had to find out if the others were OK.<br>"Sam?" he heard Dean's voice. The whisper came from the hallway.  
>Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I'm here," he whispered back. "What's going on?"<br>He heard the rustle of leather over flannel. Sam could almost see Dean shrugging. "Dunno. We were working on the cure when the lights went out."  
>"Is everyone OK?"<br>"The thing took Bobby." Dean's voice was full of anguish. Sam shut his eyes, feeling grief welling in his heart.  
>"What about the others? Cas? Liz? Dr. Rutherford?"<br>He heard a squelching sound and a thump. Sam looked towards the hallway, straining to distinguish one shadow over another in the darkness. He discerned a deeper and darker shadow in the gloom, but whether it was Dean or something else, he wasn't sure.  
>"Dean?" he whispered, feeling a bit desperate. Once again, the woman laughed.<br>"I was going to let you go, Sam, because you didn't lead the angel to me," said a woman.  
>Ellie stepped out of the shadows in the guise of a beautiful brunette. Sam recognized her new form as Noreen from all the photos in Liz's study. Noreen was beautiful; tall and slender, her dark hair curling softly over her shoulders. Her green eyes were cat-like, almond-shaped and slightly slanted at the edges, ringed with sooty spiky lashes.<br>She was holding something in her right hand.  
>"But you're not going to leave it alone when I targeted Dean and Bobby, are you? How about if I say I've changed my mind and I just want the angel now?" added Ellie.<br>"And?"  
>"And you can go." Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Even Bobby."<br>"How about Noreen? And the town?"  
>She shook her head. "I'm keeping her. It hurts the angel to see me this way.<br>"As for the town, they are mine."  
>Sam stared at her. Drawing a shaky breath, he said, "No. You're not going to hurt anyone anymore."<br>"Too bad. I thought you were the smart one."  
>Studying him thoughtfully, she added, "Give the angel up or the town dies, one by one. You have 48 hours. Or this is what you can expect."<br>She dropped the thing she was holding to the floor and kicked it over to him. "Call it a promise."  
>The thing rolled unevenly towards him. Remembering the grenade, Sam moved aside gingerly, letting the thing roll past him, into the shaft of moonlight coming through the window.<br>He gasped. Dean's unseeing eyes stared back at him, the severed stump of his neck leaking blood.  
>"No," whispered Sam. Then he screamed it.<p>

_**spn-spn-spn-spn-spn-spn**_

_****_Dean turned the container upside down. The huge chunk of dried blood plopped out into the bowl, where he was planning to grind it into fine powder. Liz watched him take the meat tenderizer and pound the blood. She blanched.  
>"I'm going to have to replace my whole kitchen after this," she commented. Dean grinned at her. Cas walked in, carrying some tools from the barn. Bobby was smoothing out the edges of the tubes while Dr. Rutherford watched, fully realizing he was in the presence of a master.<br>"We're gonna need to move out to the barn soon," muttered Bobby absent-mindedly.  
>"How'd you learn to do all this?" asked the doctor.<br>"Grenada and Japan."  
>Dr. Rutherford looked at the veteran hunter, impressed. He was going to ask some more when he heard a loud and anguished cry coming from the living room.<br>Sam was screaming.  
>They all ran to the living room to see Sam curled in the fetal position, moaning. Dean crouched next to him, shaking his shoulder.<br>"Hey, hey, Sam," he said. The gentle tones of his voice belied the gut-wrenching fear in his eyes. "Sam, wake up. It's just a nightmare. Sam!"  
>Sam's eyes remained shut while his body jerked convulsively. Dean turned anguished eyes to Bobby, who was rooted to the spot. Liz put her hand to her mouth, hoping to stem a whimper. She wouldn't be that concerned usually if it were not for the reaction of the three men next to her.<br>Taking a deep breath, Castiel went over to the couch and gently pushed Dean away. Resting his knee on the cushion, he held Sam's shoulders and bent down to whisper some words into his ears. Dean couldn't hear everything but thought he recognized Enochian, the archaic angelic language.  
>Sam calmed down. Castiel then moved away to allow Dean access to his brother. His eyes bright with tears, Dean whispered, "Thank you." Castiel nodded in response.<br>Opening his eyes, Sam at first stared in disbelief at Dean. Then his eyes took in Cas, Bobby, Liz and Dr. Rutherford, all looking at him in concern. He sat up and hugged Dean tight, sobbing like a baby.


End file.
